Collapsing Reality
by sansbear
Summary: Jeremy Gilbert returns home after a ten year hiatus.
1. Home, Coming

**A/N:** This is an AU future fic. I had an idea and I am running with it. Foolish, since I have two other VD works ongoing, but I must. Enjoy and if you find it enjoyable, review.

* * *

Intentions, good or bad, pave the road to hell. As roads went, his was the smoothest, blackest two-lane highway around. There was no getting around it either—this was his route 66, no detours, no exits, and no rest stops. If he could stop, he would have to thumb through memories of them to come to the turning point, and he was already insane from going forward. Going back would kill him as sure as a bullet through the heart.

Moonlight glinted off the silver ring of his finger and he sighed. Or not.

Damn fucking promises. The closer he got to home the quicker the memories. It wasn't a promise. More like a hex to blight his humanity. And now here he was with what little flesh and bone and blood he had left, burning rubber and gas to rumble into Virginia to answer a rather vague call. After all these years one would think filial bonds would realign themselves due to a new perspective, but no. Hexes or promises or whatever came with sister strings.

Headlights briefly illuminated the welcome sign to Mystic Falls. It was three in the morning on a Sunday. The town was dead quiet, amber pools of light creating dense shadow wells. Wind rustled leaves from dying branches and swept them across worn Main Street.

Jeremy Gilbert paused at a red light. After blowing fifty of the things to get here, he felt bound by some inexplicable law to _obey_. He rolled down the window and inhaled. Same woodsy scent. Someone, probably the Logermans, had pine trees still for sale this close to Christmas.

The light turned and he shot down the road, made a left, and continued another three miles over the bridge to the quiet suburb where all his childhood lay in well-defined sections. A part of him thought he wouldn't remember what collection of streets led him to the green painted mailbox with the red rooster, but home engraved an image on his brain he could never erase.

He parked as close to the curb as possible and for the first time in two days, cut the engine. The world was suddenly doused in silence and stillness. He looked up at the house. Half a string of lights were up. There was a tire swing hanging from the oak and a bike rested against the porch steps.

The only force keeping him from a hotel room was the disappointment he would surely catch from about four faces, one of which he found oddly identical to his mother's. He grabbed the duffle next to him and stepped foot in Mystic Falls for the first time in ten years.

Jeremy walked slowly across the lawn and up the steps, sparing a glance at the retro red Schwinn in his path. Someone put up a screen door. Finally. He grinned as he rapped his knuckles twice on the hard wood. Shuffling feet soon arrived and the porch light switched on right above his head. He winced and stepped back the same time the door opened.

"You weren't kidding."

Jenna stood in a blue robe, her red hair pulled back into a hasty bun. He noticed a few lines around her eyes and parenthetical indents around her mouth. Her face lost the roundness of youth but her eyes still sparkled at him like time hadn't passed. All she needed to do was give him a half-smile and he was sixteen again.

"Are you surprised?" Jeremy said by way of greeting. Jenna pushed open the screen door to let him in and a blast of heat and the smell of pie hit him all at once.

He turned to her once she finished locking up. She looked into his face for a second before hugging him. He kept his hands at his sides but allowed himself to relax. It had been ten years. She was allowed.

Jenna patted his back and stepped back. "Are you hungry? There's chicken and some biscuits leftover from dinner."

Jeremy nodded. "Anything to drink too?"

Jenna headed away down the short hall to the kitchen. "I'm assuming something stronger than juice?"

Jeremy said nothing as he took in his surroundings. What was once his house had become Jenna's house. Rain boots and umbrellas stood in a corner near the door. There was a bright purple coat hanging off the banister. Pictures lined the wall leading to the kitchen. Pictures of his parents, of Elena, of him, of Jenna getting married, of her kids, of vacations, of parties. It was a disconcerting trip through time to reach the kitchen.

The sight of fried chicken and biscuits had him salivating the second he sat down. He ate silently, eyes on the imported beer or his plate or the planter by the kitchen window that must have appeared sometime in the past years.

Jenna sat across from him at the island, watching him with a critical eye. He knew she was bursting with questions from the way she kept sighing but the interrogation would have to wait until later, when he figured out what the hell he was doing back home.

"I made up the guest room," she said when he was finished. She took his plate and set it in the sink.

"Maybe I should get a room—"

Jenna cut him off with a swift narrowed look. Jeremy swallowed the rest of the words and followed her upstairs. He glanced through the half-open bedroom doors that used to be his and Elena's. One had a nightlight of dinosaurs and the other one of constellations. He had cousins. It was real now that he heard their soft breathing.

Jenna opened the door to his (temporary) room and he entered it slowly, looking around in the dark. It was large, like Elena's, with a walk-in bathroom. Jenna managed to merge his old stuff and Elena's stuff into something bordering on nostalgia. Well, nostalgia for anyone who knew the importance of the stereo headphones hanging on a hook.

"Better than a motel room?"

Jeremy glanced at her. "It'll do."

"Night, Jer."

She closed the door before he could respond. He stood in the middle of the room and let the duffel drop, then fell back onto the bed, closed his eyes and slept like the dead.

_It was raining but there was fire everywhere, crawling up the trees, racing along the forest ground. He could barely see in all the smoke. He stumbled forward, nearly falling on a burning log when a hand grabbed his hoodie and pulled him away._

_Caroline flashed him a tight smile and sped ahead into the smoke. He heard snarling and screaming all around him, flesh tearing apart amid the cracking of charring wood. There was something at his back and he continued on, jogging around falling timber and gray corpses._

_The smoke cleared for an instant and he saw Stefan struggling with a gray wolf. He had his hands around its throat; its jaw was mere inches from his face. He was about to fall when a black wolf streaked into the fray and barreled into the other wolf. They tussled and the black wolf leapt up first, pouncing on the exposed chest of the gray wolf. _

_Stefan locked eyes with him. He said something and waved his hand towards the clearing. The clearing. Ahead, between the shadows and the flickering orange trees, he saw them kneeling. There was a dagger. He rushed forward, his heart beating hard and his lungs burning. He had the stake in his hand as he approached the figure from the back. His arm was raised as he vaulted into the air and he saw her, for a second, her hazel eyes wide and her hand outstretched…_

Jeremy rolled to his feet, breathing hard. Disorientation fogged his mind for a moment before he saw the jewelry box belonging to Elena. His shirt was soaked with sweat. His arm cramped and he released a slow breath as he unclenched his fist. There was blood on his palm.

A pattering of feet turned his attention from his palm to the slowly opening door. He ducked into the bathroom, shutting the door just as he heard small voices in hushed tones.

"Daddy said he's been everywhere."

"He's not here."

A shadow passed by the door. He flushed the toilet and heard them run out the room. They must be…eight and five now. God. He put his face in his hands and breathed out slow. Elena better have a damn good reason for calling him.

The only time he took off the ring was four years ago behind some shithole dive in Portland. He got the living shit kicked out of him by a werewolf a day before a full moon. He felt every initial blow but only a vague tingling afterwards. It didn't occur to him until he was lying there in a puddle of dirty water, unable to stand, that there was something _wrong_. This was different from having his neck broken or being stabbed to death—when he died he felt it.

He remembered two Tuesdays ago when he sliced open his hand tracking a vampire. Didn't feel the sting. He fell awkwardly during a chase the week before and he walked on the ankle like nothing was wrong despite it being the size of a blood orange.

He felt for the ring, inhaled, twisted it off and immediately passed out. When he woke, a pretty blonde doctor stood at the head of his hospital bed and rambled off his list of injuries.

"You're lucky someone found you. Fifteen more minutes without medical attention and—"

"Do you guys read from the same manual or something?" Jeremy cut in.

She flipped shut the file and sighed. "Mr. Gilbert, this isn't your first time in a hospital and from your rather flippant attitude, it won't be your last. As your doctor this time around, I want you to heed this warning—your body won't withstand another beating. Whatever you're into, quit and find something else."

Jeremy watched her leave and shut the door before disconnecting the leads and the IVs. He winced as he swung his legs over the side to the floor and took a shaky breath. On top of his folded clothes sat his ring. He felt like shit, probably looked it, and it was the greatest feeling in the world. But there was something beneath the feeling, something like a limited time only deal. He reached for the ring and slipped it back on.

The doctor was right—he needed to do something else. He flexed the hand bearing the ring. Too bad he didn't know anything else.

Jeremy pulled the coat tighter around him as a gust buffeted him down the steps to his car. A thin layer of frost covered the windshield and there was a note tucked between the wiper and the glass.

A smile worked his lips as he read Christmas tree card with crayon letters. They were imaginative kids, and persistent. He slipped the card into an inside pocket and went to the trunk to search for the iron brush or ice scraper.

Of course no such thing resided in his car.

"Shit," he said as he slammed the passenger door.

"Need some help?"

Alaric stood on the other side. He held up the brush and the ice scraper.

"Start the car—we can drink some coffee while we wait for the ice to soften."

They ended up leaning against the back of the car, sipping bourbon-laced coffee from thermos caps.

"Where are the kids?"

"Jenna took them grocery shopping. Christmas is in two days and it's our year."

"Your year?"

"Yeah. We take turns hosting."

Jeremy nodded. Alaric drained his cup and turned to Jeremy. "Let's do this."

It took them a good ten minutes to clear the ice. It was a silent endeavor for which Jeremy was grateful. He liked Alaric. The guy was one of the few truly good men he had ever come across, and he hadn't changed despite marrying into a morbid family.

"You know why Elena wants to see me?"

Alaric watched Jeremy wipe down the windshield with a homemade defrosting agent. The kid had grown up since he last saw him. His eye caught the ring. Yeah, anyone would grow up fast doing what Jeremy chose to do.

"Elena is one of those mysteries I'm content to let remain a mystery."

Jeremy stood back and expelled a deep sigh. "I'm just hoping this isn't one of those tricks, you know?"

He tossed the ice scraper and rag to Alaric, who tucked them beneath his arm.

"Yeah, I know. I've busted up quite a few of those plans, some of them pretty damn inventive."

"Oh yeah?"

Alaric grinned. "You have people who care about you, Jeremy. They miss you. They want to see you."

A flash of something broke across Jeremy's face. If he didn't know too much about heartbreak and sacrifices and misunderstanding, he would brook the subject. As it was, he let that something pass.

"Well, thanks for the help Rick. If I'm not back by dinner, you know where to look."

Jeremy slid behind the wheel and revved the engine before tearing off down the road. He made a right instead of a left. Alaric shook his head and went back inside to get warm.


	2. Truths Half Told

**A/N**: Thank you for the reviews. I'm ahead in writing this, so I'll post a new chapter every week. Enjoy and thanks again.

* * *

In Tucson he met a girl named Sarah. She looked nothing like the girl in his mind, the girl who woke him in the middle of the night, who drove him to drive and never look back. Sarah had thick wheat colored hair that fell in waves to her mid-back and blue eyes so light they resembled glass at various points of expression.

She was a supplier and he needed supplies. It was a simple arrangement until the job turned into a week and Sarah became more than just some pretty girl with an unsettling look. Sarah became the girl he woke up next to five out of seven days. Sarah became the girl whose hair had weight against his arm. Sarah became wanted.

And for five months, Jeremy Gilbert was happy. And then the shit hit the fan like it always did.

Happiness made people reckless. It made people with magical rings especially reckless and forgetful. So when he realized his mistake and went back to her house and found her with her throat slashed, he knew exactly where to lay the blame—on happiness.

After he dispatched of the vampire who killed her, he burned everything down and moved on with another ghost haunting him.

* * *

Jeremy parked across the street from one of those picturesque two-story brick siding homes on a sprawling one and a half acre of powdered snow. Two cars sat in the graveled drive. A basketball hoop hung above the garage. He could see a wreath hanging on the door, the silver bells and red bow catching sunlight. Lights trimmed the outline of the house, probably tea lights, her favorite.

He knew this was her address from the unopened letter residing in his glove compartment. He memorized the number, the street, the town, and the shape of the 'o' in her name. He said her full name until his tongue was thick with it._ Bonnie Martin._

This was where Bonnie Martin lived. It looked like a good place to be a wife and possibly a mother. The street was quiet and this particular suburb was in the higher income bracket so she was evidently okay, not hungry or anything. He didn't need to satisfy his curiosity anymore than what was made obvious. This little forty-five minute jaunt was enough to put whatever niggling feeling he had to bed. Bonnie Martin was okay.

Jeremy took one last look at the house, entertained one last thought about getting out and being a man, pulled away from the curb, made a sharp u-turn, and resumed his original route.

His mind was uncomfortably quiet during the drive to Elena's so he rolled down the window and tapped a beat to Weezer's B-sides. After all the times he resisted returning, Elena activated the damn ring. And she wouldn't do that just to spend Christmas with him. At least he hoped she wouldn't. Because once Elena decided to do something, she was unshakable.

The dusty road leading to the Salvatore house had been paved, which was a welcome improvement for the car's sake. Trees lined the road. Branches grew out over it, forming a living sky. The afternoon sun dappled the curving blacktop ahead. The atmosphere had a magical tint to it.

The Salvatore house appeared from out behind three acres of woods. It was exactly how he remembered, out of place and always lit. He pulled up near the front and blew his horn.

The front door swung open and Elena came striding towards him, a grin on her face. She gained a little more weight. It suited her.

"I could hear the music blasting from a mile away."

"You mean Stefan heard it from a mile away," he said. She rolled her eyes and pulled him into a hug. This one he reciprocated.

"I didn't think you would come," Elena said as she pulled back.

She examined his face for a full minute. It used to bother him but he knew it gave her some kind of reassurance he was alright, that his face, a bit leaner and covered in day old growth with a new scar over his eyebrow, was more or less the same face she's known all his life.

"Well, I'm here. So what's going on?"

Elena slipped an arm around his back. "Are you hungry? I've been practicing a new recipe and I need a human taste tester."

Jeremy hung an arm around her neck and together they went inside. The paneled walls and the glossed hardwood floors brought back memories of meetings, most of them resulting in making the situation worse. He heard the crackle of the fireplace and then a clinking of glass. Low voices came from the study.

"Damon is home," Elena said.

She ushered him towards the kitchen. Whatever experiment cooked smelled pretty damn good. He hopped up on the only empty space on the countertop and surveyed the ordered mess. Pots cluttered the stove and small casserole dishes lined every available flat table space.

She handed him a fork full of what looked to be mac and cheese. He hoped it was mac and cheese.

"What am I about to eat here?"

"A macaroni casserole. I'm testing out some recipes."

He ate the sample and when he actually didn't spit it out, Elena gave a whoop of triumph.

"Passable," he said and she punched him in the arm.

"Since when do you cook?"

"Since always."

"Heating up takeout is not cooking."

"It is if you add seasoning, okay? I've become a regular Susie Homemaker in your absence."

Jeremy raised both eyebrows. "Is summoning your wandering brother in Good Housekeeping?"

Elena hesitated as she stirred a pot and Jeremy stared at her until she finally turned to look at him. She gathered her hair over one side, twisted it, and slung it back.

"Elena," he said.

"I haven't seen you in almost six years Jeremy. And everyone is home for the Holidays, even Damon. So I figured I'd kill two birds with one stone."

She quickly went to another pot and stirred. Jeremy blinked a few times, confused.

"What two birds?"

"Well," she sneaked a sideways glance at him, "I wanted to see you and…I wanted to see if the spell could work, if it could get you here."

Jeremy shook his head and slid down from the counter. "You're so predictable."

"You're pissed."

"Yeah, I'm pissed Elena. I drove two days straight from Phoenix, thinking it was important and all you want is me here to eat turkey?"

Elena set down the stirring spoon. She picked up a kitchen towel and began wiping down the stove. She worked in silence for two minutes before stopping.

"I want a normal holiday. Just one, Jeremy. Just one where we can all be us without the vampire, werewolf, or witch drama."

She looked at him and his anger increased. The last time they spoke burned in his mind and the inevitable memory of the last time he saw Bonnie followed and made it hard to breathe. He walked to edge of the kitchen to look outside. Snow fell in lazy drifts beyond the frosted windows. The woods were gnarled black needles.

No matter where he went, this place went with him. It was a maddening thing to be tethered to a place.

"I don't know if you'll ever understand why I stay away. It's difficult to put into words the heaviness I feel coming back here," Jeremy gave the ring an absent rub. He sighed and glanced at her.

"I left Mystic Falls for a reason, Elena. I have to be called back for one better than your desire to be normal."

Elena dropped her eyes and when she lifted them again Jeremy was gone. The bells shook twice as the door open and shut.

The skin on the back of her neck pricked. She swallowed a sigh as she turned to find Stefan leaning against the stove.

"I'm not going to say anything," he said.

"Good," she said.

Stefan lifted a pot cover and sniffed. "Smells good. I thought Jenna and Alaric were—"

"Am I wrong to want Jeremy home? Ten out of twelve months I don't know where he is or what he's doing so can I be blamed for wanting to see him for more than a few minutes via webcam?"

Stefan replaced the lid. "You're not wrong for wanting to see Jeremy, but you have to admit you could have timed it a little better."

Elena scowled and gave him a sharp elbow to the stomach. Stefan merely grinned and dropped a kiss on her cheek. He remained by her side as she finished the mac and cheese experiment. Normally she would ask him to leave during one of her thinking/cooking moods, but his presence on this occasion let her slip into a meditative trance.

Stefan was correct—her timing was horrendous. In addition to that, she wasn't completely honest in her motives.

Elena took in Stefan's back as he washed dishes. She forgot he was more or less twenty years short of two hundred and had a lot of time to observe human behavior. Sometimes his cool insight bothered her. Other times it reminded her of one of the reasons she loved him—he allowed her to figure it out.

Elena came up behind him and brushed her lips against his neck. "Did Jeremy leave?"

"I didn't hear his car start."

She squeezed his middle. "Knew you were good for something."

Stefan flicked soapy water at her in response.

* * *

Jeremy left with every intention of jumping into his car, grabbing his stuff from Jenna's, and heading back to Phoenix. The second he hit the cold all his intentions disappeared in a long exhalation of white air.

He slumped against the car. He had two real options: leave as intended or stay and endure what would be a torturous Christmas. If he left, he faced Elena's very real, very potent disappointment. If he stayed, he would have to scrounge up enough courage to withstand…

Even circling the thought made him uneasy.

"Sulking already?"

Jeremy tightened his grip on his keys as Damon skipped down the front steps.

"Still eavesdropping?"

Damon smiled. "Not that hard to do with all that blood pumping and tension clanging."

He looked past Jeremy to the car with a raised eyebrow. "Is this that rusted p.o.s. Buick GS I saw in Cleveland?" He circled the car, running a finger from hood to trunk.

"Looks like it is," Jeremy answered. Damon knelt to inspect the paint.

"You did this black on black?"

"I did."

Damon stood. "I am impressed. And here I thought you lacked follow through."

"You always liked to underestimate me," Jeremy said.

Damon grinned. He nodded towards the house. "I haven't seen Elena this worked up in years."

"You've been checking in?"

Damon lifted a shoulder. "I've become somewhat nostalgic in my old age."

Jeremy never thought he would become adept at reading vampires, especially one who killed him and threatened to kill him on several occasions. But in his work he learned something—vampires love to reminisce. They may hate humanity, feed on their blood, use them as sport, but they were human once, and they loved.

He knew Damon couldn't care less about the Salvatore house or about Mystic Falls. Hell, the world could burn down but as long as Stefan was still around, it was bearable. Even if they hated each other, it was better than apathy. This nostalgia then was for Stefan, for the family they used to be before Katherine and the whole mess.

Damon read the awareness in Jeremy's smile and rolled his eyes. "You are not a vampire whisperer."

"Never said I was."

Damon gestured for the keys. "Hurricane Elena approaches. I'll do you a solid and help you escape. There's finally a bar around here."

Jeremy tossed him the keys. "Don't think this makes up for St. Helena's."

They slid into the car. Damon tested the engine and grinned. "Sure it does little little Brother."

The car was gone by the time Elena stepped onto the porch. She could spot the twinkle of red headlights before they disappeared behind the woods.

"Damon," she sighed.


	3. Past and Present Tins

**A/N: A reviewer, K, commented on a _Supernatural _connection. Very astute. As always, leave a comment if the mood strikes. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own nor seek to profit from these characters. **

* * *

It was well past midnight when Jeremy returned to Jenna's. The porch light was on. He stood outside the screen for a second, then reached into the planter next to the mat and retrieved the spare key. He would have to tell Jenna to find a better hiding place.

Inside was warm and smelled of cookies. The living room lights were on and sounds came from the kitchen. He headed to the stairs.

"Jeremy Gilbert, get your ass in here."

Jeremy expelled a reluctant breath and followed orders.

Jenna and Alaric stood in the kitchen, packaging cookies and other pastries in metal Christmas tins. The sight of them instantly threw him back to Christmas when he was ten. His father had a conference and missed the tradition, so his mother let him stay up with her. It was just the two of them, his mother doing most of the work and Jeremy admonishing her for sneaking the chocolate chip cookies. He remembered how she smiled when he caught her, how she nudged him in the ribs when he put too many cookies in a tin, how she rested a hand on his head as he handwrote tags for the neighbors and a few parents of his and Elena's friends. When they were done she made him warm cinnamon milk and waved away his sleepy demand that he was too old to be tucked in. She swept a warm hand over his forehead, kissed his cheek, pulled the covers tight around him, and left.

It was a simple memory but it affected him mightily. Jenna looked up, saw his face, and came over to him.

"I'm sorry."

Jeremy broke out of his daze, knowing how drawn he must look. He forced a grin.

"My ass is here, as ordered."

Jenna frowned, about to say something when Alaric spoke.

"We were wondering if could put the finished tins in a box and deliver them tomorrow. I would do it, but Jenna has enlisted me in last minute Christmas shopping."

Jeremy gave them both a suffering look. "Seriously."

Jenna squeezed his arm. "You don't have to."

Jeremy looked to Alaric who held up his hands. He was had. There was no way he could say no when Jenna used the magic words, "_You don't have to." _

"I'll do it but on two conditions: one, on my own time and two, I am not, I repeat, _not_ taking the kids."

He pointed to the two of them. "I know you guys. I'm onto you."

Jeremy left the kitchen and headed upstairs. Jenna turned to Alaric with a smile.

"So how slick do you think I am?"

Alaric raised an eyebrow. "You got me doing this, don't you?"

* * *

_Every nerve fired. His brain burned with data. He smelled his blood, smelled sweat from those around him, dirt. Light and dark had depth and yet he couldn't focus, his eyes kept traveling around the walls of the cave. He felt hands on his chest and shoulders, felt and knew the variation of strength in the hands. He tasted the electricity of a spell._

_Her words echoed off the walls, drowning out the sounds of fighting above them. Klaus was dead yet they still fought, still hoped to persevere. Laughter welled into his belly. So much of it was pointless. And now he was dying with a witch and a vampire at his deathbed. _

"_What a fucking idiot!"_

"_I don't know why it isn't working."_

"_I cannot believe this shit! Elena is going to lose her mind."_

"_He had on the ring. How is this possible?"_

"_The kid is bleeding all over the damn place so figure it out and quick."_

"_I can't…Oh God, I can't…"_

_A buzzing filled his ears. His eyes finally came to rest on her face. Silver light hit it and accented the tears streaking her cheeks. She looked wild, her mouth straining as she screamed at someone across from her. He had never seen her so out of control. She was beautiful._

_A numbing stillness crept over his legs, winding its way up. He had words he wanted to say and knew they would never be enough. He opened his mouth the same moment she looked down. He knew he spoke but he was mesmerized. All existence narrowed to two shimmering hazel eyes. His breath caught. He was numbed. He was…_

Sunlight broke upon his consciousness. He blinked once, twice, and found himself tense again. So much for a copious amount of alcohol aiding his sleeping trouble. The scene last night flooded his thoughts. Christ. He went and made a damn promise when he was partially sober.

Jeremy turned his face from the window and into the direct gaze of two sets of grey eyes.

"Good morning!"

He sat up slowly and rubbed his face. Fear compounded his headache.

"Where are your parents?"

"They went to run," the youngest one, the girl, answered.

"An errand, they went on an errand," the oldest, a boy, corrected.

Jeremy stared at them. They were dressed and had on jackets. The girl had on a pink beanie with butterflies.

He pointed to children. "You are…Adrien and your sister is Keira."

"And you are Jeremy," Adrien said.

The way the boy said his name made him some kind of pilgrim hero. He understood now why Jenna entrusted her children to him—they were awestruck. A couple of hours with him and they would regard him as nothing more than a silent and grumpy relative.

"Okay. Well, give me a couple of minutes to get ready."

Adrien took Keira by the hand and they left, casting a look at him before they disappeared around the corner. Jeremy rolled onto his feet and exhaled. He needed calm. He needed patience. He needed not to wring his sister and his Aunt's necks.

In fifteen minutes Jeremy and the kids were out the door. Twenty minutes and a stream of swear words later, they were in the car. Adrien sat up front all wide-eyed with wonder and Keira sat in the back with the box. Jeremy adjusted the rearview mirror, took a deep breath and turned the key. The car rumbled. Jeremy kept from smiling when he revved the engine and the kids gasped.

"Alright, everyone ready?"

"Yes!"

"Great," Jeremy muttered.

* * *

In the years since he got his license, Jeremy rarely followed the speed limit. That morning he stayed five to ten miles below it. Adrien and Keira didn't seem to notice the general agony of slowness. They were in an alien car with a cool relative that cursed and threw the booster seat in the trunk and let them ride around like big kids. It was a dream.

The first couple of deliveries were a little awkward. People were surprised and they wanted to chat, catch up, marvel at the beautiful kids, send all sorts of wishes, and give him hugs and handshakes. And each time this happened he would have to go through the process of triple checking seatbelts. So, by the time the Buick pulled up outside the fifth house, Jeremy enacted his plan.

Adrien and Keira would be the givers and Jeremy would lean against the car, waiting, offering a little wave and ushering the kids back to the car when he was spotted.

It worked. Forty-five minutes later and they had one last tin to deliver. Jeremy glanced over to Adrien.

"Who's next?"

Adrien read the tag on the tin with a grimace. "Lux."

"I'm guessing it's some kid you dislike, huh?"

"She's this girl in my class that really bugs me."

"You don't like her because she's a better kicker than you," Keira added.

"Shut up."

"It's true! And she can play Super Mario better than you too!"

"Sounds like a real terror," Jeremy said. Adrien nodded.

"Well, the sooner we face her, the sooner we stop and get something to eat."

Keira clapped her hands and yelled, "Ice cream!"

Adrien stared at his sister then at Jeremy. He remembered getting the same exact exasperated look from Elena when they were younger.

"The address is 8892 Briar Red Rd."

Jeremy braked hard. Adrien clutched at the tin.

"Lux…Lux Martin?"

"Yeah," Adrien replied.

The drive to 8892 Briar Red Rd. was quiet. Adrien fiddled with the radio controls and found a station not playing Christmas music. Keira started playing I-Spy with him. Jeremy heard them from far away, his thoughts zipping around the name: _Lux Martin_. It could mean a number of things, not just Bonnie Martin's offspring. It could be a cousin or a niece on Luka's side. It could be they adopted one of the many free-floating Bennett relatives.

It could mean she had a daughter.

The yawning chasm between the secret wish he carried around and reality grew deeper and wider by infinite bounds. Who was he kidding? This Lux Martin wasn't a cousin or niece or some obscure adopted relative. She had a daughter. _Lux Martin._

Memory led him to the house without deliberation. He had parked and turned off the ignition before becoming fully aware of where he was and why. Adrien's voice placed him back into the present.

"Are you going to stay here?"

Jeremy shook his head. "No, we all go."

He got out and unbuckled Keira. Adrien was there to help her out and take her hand. Jeremy noted how protective Adrien was of his sister. His hand around hers was firm despite how she practically wiggled about, eager to skip across the road and visit her friend. He wondered briefly if Adrien knew of his heritage.

Adrien released a rush of air. "Alright, let's get this over with."

He advanced with his skipping sister in tow, Jeremy bringing up the rear. In another situation, this would be amusing—a twenty-six year old man and an eight year-old boy walking with all the gravitas of a death march to deliver a tin of Christmas cookies while a five year-old skips with gleeful abandon beside them.

Jeremy could see the humor but too many warring emotions kept it from actualizing. A kind of finalization hit him as soon as he stepped foot on the snow covered lawn. This was real, this was happening. Maybe he should have read the letter. Maybe he should have kept in contact. Maybe…Keira looked back at him.

"You're slow!"

She waved at him to hurry up and he quickened his pace. What could have or should have been no longer mattered. He was here now.

"Alright, Little Miss, I'm coming."

As soon as the reached the porch, Keira shook Adrien loose and rushed the doorbell. Five seconds went by before she did it again.

"Lux!" she called.

The sound of the locks clicking open quickened his heart. He didn't think about the possibility of Bonnie opening the door, of Bonnie's face being the face he saw. He thought of it as the door swung open and his heart literally spasmed.

A girl stood in the doorway, her face lit by a bright smile. It was Bonnie, but in miniature and with a few differences. The eyes were a light green, her skin a shade darker, and her hair in a wild disarray of black curls. But it was Bonnie's smile.

"Hey Keira," the girl said.

"We brought you cookies. This is Jeremy, Mommy's nephew. Our cousin. His car is really cool and really loud."

Before the girl could say anything, Adrien extended the tin towards her. "Merry Christmas."

The smile fell a little from the girl's face. The two watched each other like enemies forced into a truce. She took the tin with muffled thanks, and then turned her gaze upon Jeremy.

"I'm Lux."

"Hello Lux."

Lux tucked the tin under her arm. Her eye caught his ring. "Hey, Mr. Saltzmann and Uncle Stefan and Damon have a ring like that too!"

Three excited faces examined his ring finger. Jeremy slipped the hand in a pocket.

"Are you guys part of a secret society or something?" Adrien asked.

"It wouldn't be a secret if they told you, moron," Lux replied.

"You're the moron."

"What's a secret society?" Keira asked Jeremy. He shrugged.

"I'm the moron who noticed. And who can beat you one-on-one on the field," Lux continued.

"I let you beat me because you're a _girl_."

"Okay, okay kids, take it easy," Jeremy said before Lux could counter.

"It was nice meeting you Lux. Merry Christmas," he said, turning Adrien and Keira away.

"Wait, Mom is home. She was talking about you. I can get her."

Lux was poised to call out when Jeremy shook his head. "No, that's okay. I'll, uh, I'll catch up with her another time."

She shrugged and turned to call, "Mom! Jeremy Gilbert is here!"

Jeremy caught the playful grin as Lux darted inside the house, calling for her mother. He took the opportunity to make a swift departure. The kids were secured and the engine rumbling when he turned to see a figure in the doorway, watching. Even from yards away and with shield of glass between them, he could feel the heat of her stare.

He peeled off, wowing Adrien and Keira with the screech of the tires and the motion of the kick as he roughly shifted gears.

They were halfway to the diner he promised for lunch when Adrien turned to him.

"She totally sold you out."

The tension left him as he observed the weary headshake that accompanied the statement. It was so similar to Jenna.

"Yeah, she did. I can see why she bugs you."

Adrien nodded. "Finally, someone who knows."


	4. The Gilbert Variance

**A/N:** This chapter is the pivot to the second act of this project. Enjoy.

* * *

Leaving Mystic Falls was not a planned decision. Jeremy threw some stuff together and left in the middle of the night. He used the walk to the bus depot to formulate a loose plan of action. First, he confronted the realities of the situation: he had no work experience outside of dabbling in suburban drug dealing, he had a bank account he couldn't access until he was twenty-one, he knew no one outside of Mystic Falls, and he could not come back.

The lights of the bus depot shined ahead in the darkness. He didn't even know where to go. Panic rose within him. He turned, looked down the road he just traveled. It was dark. There was nothing back there for him anymore.

Two days later Jeremy was in Atlanta. He found the nearest payphone and, after a moment of doubt, called home. Elena picked up on the first ring.

"Jeremy?"

"I'm fine," he said. She started crying and it was only then he thought of how frightened his sister would be.

"Jeremy, where are you? Are you okay?"

"I wanted to call and let you know I'm safe."

Silence fell across the line. He knew she was pacing, trying to think of what to say to counter the unspoken message: _Don't try to find me. _

"Jeremy, I know how hard it's been. Believe me, I know. But you can't just leave. You can't run away from what happened—"

"Elena, I'm not coming back. Not today or tomorrow or anytime in the foreseeable future. I'll call you when I can."

Jeremy hung up before Elena could respond. Tears flooded the back of his throat. He cleared it hard, took a look around, and headed off to catch a bus across town.

After a rocky week, Jeremy landed a job at a bowling alley and another washing dishes at some local joint. It was enough to set up in a motel room. Every day for a month he expected Damon or Stefan or Alaric to show up and drag him back. Every night he went to sleep a little less disappointed and a little more relieved. He anticipated a search, what he didn't anticipate was what found him.

Jeremy leaned against the booth, watching a group of college kids drink a pitcher of beer and bowl an atrocious game. It was almost midnight and he played the warning siren for the fifth time. The later he cleared the place, the less time he had for sleep before he headed to the other job.

The group finally got the hint and stumbled up to the booth to return their shoes.

"Hey, aren't you a little young to be up so late?" one guy said.

Jeremy bit back a natural retort and gave him a tight smile. "Sure man, sure."

It was near one when he finally locked the bowling alley doors. On his way to his bike he heard groaning. It was low, breathy, almost like someone was in the middle of sex. He stopped. Any other time he would have walked on but there was something…_off_ about the sound, something off and familiar.

It came from the darkened side of the alley. Jeremy pocketed his keys and pulled out the crowbar he carried in his pack. Six months in the city taught him never to be without a weapon.

He approached carefully, inching his way from the lightened sidewalk into the filmy dark of the alley. The smell of filth instantly hit him. He suppressed the urge to cover mouth and nose or gasp. The groaning grew louder, more insistent. He stepped over glimmering pools of dirty water, gripping the crowbar tight as he neared the noise. It came from the other side of the dumpster. Just then he placed an underlying smell bothering him since he entered the alley—blood.

He froze as he came around the dumpster. A figure unfolded from the shadows of the container and staggered towards him.

"I need…I need more…"

Several things happened at once. A beam of moonlight cut a path between him and it the moment it lunged. He saw the blood stained eyes, the gristle on its chin, the teeth and despite all this recognized the face—a missing wife and mother of three. He swung and stumbled back as the woman slammed into the side of the dumpster.

She was on her feet in a second and about to pounce when he yelled, "Stop! I know who you are!"

The woman jerked still. "What?"

"You're Margaret Davidson. You have three kids. You live in Cherry Heights."

The steel of the crowbar bit into his palm. The woman stared at him for the longest time then burst into tears. The vampire receded and the human returned. She sank to her knees, sobbing.

Jeremy crept closer, keeping the iron grip on the crowbar.

"What have I done? What have I done?" she cried.

She looked at him then, true fear on her face. "What am I?"

The easiest thing to do would have been to find a wooden stake and kill her, right then and there. But Jeremy wasn't interested in easy. He couldn't forget who she was before she turned.

Margaret sat freshly showered and wrapped in a robe on one twin bed while Jeremy sat on another. They stared at each other.

"Anything you want to ask me?"

Margaret blinked. She ran a hand through wet black hair. "I died."

Jeremy nodded.

"So am I dead?"

"Technically."

"Do all the myths apply?"

Jeremy hunched forward. "Stakes will kill you, sun will kill you, crucifixes are a preference as is garlic and sleeping in coffins."

"And blood?"

"You don't need human blood to survive. Having it does make you stronger, but it's not necessary. Especially not if you want to return to your life."

"My life?" Margaret laughed. She stood and went to the window. "I don't have one of those anymore. I killed a man tonight. Nearly ripped his neck out to drink up every last bit of his blood. And it was good. It was the best thing I ever tasted. And I…"

"And you want to do it again."

She turned. "How do you know so much about this?"

Jeremy lifted a shoulder. "Family history."

Margaret turned back to the window. "Not very forthcoming, are you?"

"I'm not the one who needs help."

Margaret laughed again. "You're what, sixteen, seventeen? My oldest is the same age as you."

Jeremy checked the words he wanted to say. It was an argument he was tired of repeating. Instead he went to the bedside table, opened a drawer and pulled out the notepad and pen next to the Bible.

"What am I to do with this?" Margaret asked when he handed her the pen and paper.

"You have two options: go homicidal or go home. If you want to go home, then start taking notes."

Margaret weighed the pen and paper. "You're going to have to bear with me. I haven't been to school in fifteen years."

Margaret was the first supernatural Jeremy helped acclimate. It took him a year to fully integrate Margaret back into her life, but it was worth all the false starts and bi-weekly existential doubts. When he saw her surrounded by her family, the joy on her face, something clicked in him. He learned too much from the experience to return to being a line cook and working at the bowling alley. He made contacts he couldn't let go to waste. And he knew there were others out there, struggling through transition, unable to do anything other than what was instinctual. He just didn't know how to get started and keep going.

A month after Margaret went home, she called to have breakfast.

The restaurant was a bit high class for breakfast. Blue linen tablecloth, porcelain dishes, heavy silver. The menu was a slim rectangle of thick yellow paper written in blue ink. Jeremy sat at the table reading the same dozen items again and again. Margaret sat across from him, idly stirring a cup of tea and watching him.

She forgot how young Jeremy truly was. She took for granted his maturity in aiding her through the transition, and once she was home, Jeremy Gilbert was on her mind constantly. Beneath everything, he was the same age as her oldest child. He had the same vulnerability of youth, the same anxiety for the future. When Matthew shocked her with how much food he ingested, she thought of how Jeremy barely ate. When she started teaching Matthew how to wash his clothes, she thought of how Jeremy dumped everything into the bathtub, poured in detergent, and then proceeded to wash his clothes like the old grape crushers. Jeremy and her son were different in virtually every way save one—they were still children in a sandbox.

"I hear the brisket is very good," Margaret said.

Jeremy frowned. "Brisket? In the morning?"

"It's an Atlanta thing," she said. He nodded. Margaret signaled the waiter to come take their orders.

"What are your plans?"

Jeremy rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, I don't know."

"You don't know," Margaret sipped her tea.

Jeremy shifted under her gaze. There was one thing unsettling about Margaret. She could switch easily between the mother and the predator. It was a peculiar gift, one made even more so when she blended the two. To find that he was the subject of this Margaret made his flesh tingle.

"Jeremy," she set down the teacup and folded her hands on the table, "you can't waste your life or your talent frying French fries and spraying scotch guard on bowling shoes. So let us think of something you can do. Something you want to do."

What did he want? Jeremy looked beyond her. He wanted to draw. He wanted to go into graphics. He wanted a gallery showing of his works. He wanted to be an artist. He thought of Vicki and how she never saw that part of him. He thought of Anna, who had. And then he thought of Bonnie.

Those dreams were useless. He focused on the dark eyes of Margaret. She held his gaze steadily, waiting.

"When I helped you through the transition, I found out more than I ever learned…" he almost mentioned home. He started again. "When I helped you, I think I found something I could do on a regular basis. I mean, I'm good at it, I've met people."

"It's dangerous. Not every…beginner will be like me Jeremy."

"I know but this—"

Jeremy paused when their food came. Margaret ordered a steak, rare, with eggs. His own brisket breakfast took up half the table. They both chuckled as they maneuvered dishes and glasses to make more room.

"Look, I get that it's dangerous. Believe me, I know. But it's the only thing I know I can do. It's the only thing I find myself wanting to do," Jeremy continued.

Margaret sat back in her seat. "There's nothing else you would want to do? Nothing at all?"

Jeremy looked her plain in the eye. "No."

She sighed, picked up her knife and fork. "If you're going to do this, it's going to have to run like a business. A small, odd business with virtually zero profit, but a business nonetheless."

"What do you know about business?"

Margaret smiled. "You're eating in one of my establishments."

Jeremy stared at her in such a way Margaret had to laugh. "I managed to keep a few things from you. Surprise is a healthy thing amongst friends."

"Some surprises are, yeah," he said. Margaret caught the edge in his voice but let it go.

"You need start-up capital. That's where I come in."

Jeremy immediately protested. Margaret made a quick slash through the air, stopping his argument.

"I will not settle for 'no'. You want to go out and rehabilitate vampires and the like, so be it. But you will do it under my financial guardianship, until you don't need it. And you need it now," she insisted when he began again.

Her tone afforded no room for dissent. And while Jeremy did not like the thought of Margaret being his benefactor, he saw the advantage in having her support. For one thing, he wasn't alone.

He stayed in Atlanta for two years. When he left it was to do a job Lexington, Kentucky. It was the third job he had after Margaret, but it was the first away from her immediate partnership. Her family threw him a little party and he had to deal with Margaret mothering him for an hour before he could leave. He looked at her once, standing on the porch, the light from the house shining behind her. Leaving was never easy for Jeremy. As he kicked his bike into gear, he wondered if it ever would be.

* * *

Jeremy spent the rest of the day distracted. He took the kids to a Christmas village in the next town and for two hours they petted reindeer, made stockings, inspected the homes of elves, and talked to the big man himself. After much insistence from Keira, Jeremy went back to the house so she and Adrien could grab their ice skates. He took them to the outdoor rink on the edge of Lockwood Park and let them loose on the ice.

He found an unpopulated bench with a clear view of the ice. Dusk began to descend in a curtain of purples, pinks, and oranges. The cold grew sharper. He dropped a hand in his coat pocket, hesitated, and drew out the soft yellow envelope of the letter.

Seeing Lux made him remove it from the glove compartment and put it on his person. There was no more putting it off. He planned to read it once he got back to the house, when he was alone in the guest room, but his hand found it and pulled it out. The envelope was creased and frayed from repeated handling. The stark black letters seemed faded in the falling night. He read the name again. _Bonnie Martin._

"Jeremy! Look!"

Jeremy lifted his head. He spotted Keira instantly and waved. She did a little pirouette and he clapped. He looked for Adrien and found him absently circling the rink.

Jeremy forced air out of his lungs and opened the envelope. She wrote on heavy cream paper, in the same black ink. He read the two pages without expression, without thought. He scanned every word to memory without feeling. By the time Adrien came trudging up to him, the letter was tucked away. His face betrayed nothing except mild curiosity.

"I can't feel my face," Adrien said.

Jeremy clapped him on the shoulder and stood. "Let's drag Keira off the ice and go home. I'm pretty sure your Mom and Dad are back by now."

Jenna and Alaric were home and Keira gave them a detailed account of their day while Adrien rolled his eyes and corrected her when she exaggerated.

Jeremy left them and went up to the room. He shut the door and stood in the dark. He closed his eyes and read the letter again in his mind, this time letting his shoulders sink and his neck grow hot. He went to the bathroom, threw on the light and stared at himself in the mirror.

He saw himself at twenty-two. Anger kept him from reading the letter then. There was nothing she could say, not enough apologies or excuses in all of existence that would induce him to understand. He told Elena as much when she surprised him in Portland. And all she did was set it on the passenger seat of his car.

Jeremy tapped the faucet and hot water poured into his cupped hands. He splashed his face until the numbness turned to a stinging. He tapped the faucet again and wiped the steam from the mirror. He looked more himself except for the eyes. They knew more than they did twenty minutes ago.

"Jer?"

"In the bathroom," he said. Jenna appeared in the doorway. The grin fell when she saw his wet face.

"You didn't know."

Jeremy took a towel to dry his face. "I didn't bother to find out."

"Well, you're an idiot," she said.

"What?"

"You heard me," Jenna yanked the towel from his hands. "You're an idiot. Out of all my kids, you're the slowest one."

Jeremy was incredulous. "What are you even talking about?"

"Sooner or later you're going to have to wake up and get over yourself," Jenna said as she folded the towel. She set it on the counter and watched him for a second before patting his cheek.

"Thanks for being great with your cousins. And next time, use the booster seat," she gave his cheek a final clap and left.

Jeremy shook his head, grinning. Yeah, he was a fucking idiot. But not completely. The letter explained away certain things, helped him to understand where she stood in their failed attempt, but it didn't explain why. And why was the only question dogging him. There were clues, he just had to puzzle them out and put them together.


	5. On The Nature of Scars

**A/N**: I know, long overdue. College has bested me and this is the product of free time. It is longer than previous chapters, so if the reader has a problem with length, sorry. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own an inch of Vampire Diaries.

* * *

There were certain aspects of the job Jeremy did not question. He rarely dwelled on how easy it was to run down a werewolf, or how he could, eight times out of ten, go toe to toe with a vampire and win. To look a gift horse in the mouth was frowned upon, especially in his line of work. So he didn't. He shrugged off evisceration, extreme blood loss, fatal stab and gun shot wounds with a silent and quick acknowledge to the ring and continued on. It wasn't until Tucson did he began to wonder.

Sarah wasn't the first girl he had been with, and she wasn't the first girl he loved, but she was the first girl who laid next to him at night and woke him up in the morning, the first one who didn't shirk when he returned covered in blood and sometimes guts. He used to tease her about her almost gleeful intensity as she stripped him bare and pushed him into the shower.

One time, when he was all cleaned up and they were in bed, her hand trailing his bare back, Sarah suddenly sat up and turned on the light.

"What is it?" Jeremy asked as she pushed him on his side. Her breath warmed a section of his lower back.

"When did you get this?"

"Get what?"

Jeremy looked over his shoulder to see Sarah frown. "You don't feel that?"

"No."

She took his hand and brushed his fingers over a raised, jagged line. "I've never seen this before."

Jeremy left the scar and caught her hand. The ring looked dull in the light, dead. Ice filled his stomach. The ring—he didn't remember ever having that scar. It was new. It was impossible. He was sure the ring protected against wounds, broken bones, cuts, scratches. This mark on his body made him wonder, briefly, about his limits.

Sarah watched his face with her peculiar blue eyes. His mind turned to erasing the concern in her eyes and his body began to comply, pulling her over him and rolling her beneath him, taking her mouth in the middle of a startled laugh.

Jeremy came back the next night to find Sarah face down in the scrub grass in backyard. He smelled her blood before he even slid back the sliding glass door. He saw the pool of blood glistening as though the sun shone on a spread of rubies. He hesitated before turning her over. It was as he suspected, but much worse. It was difficult after that to remember Sarah without seeing her face and neck in shreds.

He still had Sarah's blood on his hands when he tracked down the vampire that killed her. He came away with a severed head and a flap of skin hanging from his left eyebrow ridge. The scar from the wound was the only visible reminder of the only time he hunted without reservations, without an ounce of humanity. It was the only reminder he had of how far he could go, and how he could never come back without coming back altered.

* * *

The house made soft noises as it settled into slumber. Jeremy lay awake, staring at the dark ceiling. He tapped a beat on his chest. The rhythm was simple and repetitive and perfect for slipping into a waking dream. Instead he stayed awake, the letter on a loop. In the day, it was just the letter. In the dark, it was nestled in context. He wanted to read it again in context. He closed his eyes and saw—

_Rain streamed down the windowpanes. The trees beyond her yard swayed, green blurs in the gloomy afternoon. Bonnie sat in her father's office, the folio lamp turning the white blank page in front of her custard yellow. Crumpled balls of paper littered the floor around her bare feet. The tips and sides of her fingers were stained with black ink. She rubbed at the black spots absently._

_Outside the closed door of the office, little feet ran back and forth across the wood floor. Another set of feet set chase. Around and around the feet went, sounds of amused screeching and deep chuckling joining the patter. Beneath that the velvet voice of Dinah Washington hummed. She closed her eyes and the outside world became muted. Her heart beat thickly in her ears. The inside of her eyelids were amber with crisscrossing scarlet veins. She stood against the slick walls, looking into the light. Behind her was palpable darkness, one that ate away the gray rock of consciousness. She clung to the walls. Her heels brushed air, her toes dug into the rock._

_Look at me, Bonnie._

_The voice was lower, slightly thicker. Her name had a harder edge. _

_Look at me, Bonnie. She pushed herself further towards the light. _

_Look at me. The dark continued to eat._

_Look._

_She opened her eyes. The blank page confronted her. Three years, it said. Three years. How much of your life is your life? She picked up the pen._

Jeremy,

_She couldn't ask him any questions. That would require answers and she was sure he would take one look at the envelope and chuck it. She eliminated questions about his life from her mind. What remained were facts, half truths, and good intentions (lies). Whoever he was now, he was a stranger. How did one go about writing a letter to a stranger? He wasn't always a stranger._

In the span of our relationship, there is one moment that stays with me. Not the end, nor the beginning. It is in the middle. It was raining. It was night. We were in your room, on your bed. You had your arm around my shoulders and my head was on your chest. I asked you to tell me about drawing. And you did. You started out slow, laughing because you said you felt like you were talking to your guidance counselor. I dug your ribs and like a horse, you were off. I listened to you, heard your heart beating in steady cadence with your voice, felt your warmth along my body, and I loved you.

I want you to know that I did love you. That in little moments such as that rainy evening I felt love as strongly as you did. It is no excuse for ruining us the way I did. I cannot apologize for doing it, just for the way it was done. I hurt you, and that never was my intention. I write that and I think it was foolish to think I wouldn't. I blindsided you. I don't expect your anger to have cooled enough to accept that I had to. I am glad I did. You are the only one besides Matt who has left. You are the one I wanted to leave and live a life free from all this witchcraft, vampire, and werewolf mess.

I know nothing of you now, only that you are alive and traveling. I think of you, I wonder if you are well, even though I gave up the privilege to ask or to wonder. It would be presumptuous of me to tell you of my life, answer what questions you might have. While circumstances have changed, I am still, more or less, the same. Presumptions be damned.

As the address hinted, I am married. I have a daughter, Lux. Mystic Falls is no longer my home—it is a neighboring town. Lucy opened an herbal supply store in Winchester and I manage it. My life is…not what I imagined it would be, but it is my life. I don't regret it, and I don't regret that you were part of it.

Be safe in all that you do.

B.

_Bonnie quickly folded the letter and slipped it into the already addressed envelope. It said everything she could say barring a sudden encounter. The letter was light in her hand. It should feel heavier. _

_The doors to the office opened. She heard a high giggle and looked around the desk. Life was there, peanut butter and jelly smeared all over her face. Bonnie set the letter down and reached for her daughter._

_

* * *

_

Jeremy woke with a knot in his chest. It was early morning and the house was still quiet. He got up, got dressed, and went downstairs. He met Alaric coming out of the kitchen, a piece of toast hanging from his mouth.

"You're up early."

Jeremy looked at the sweatpants and gray hoodie Alaric wore. His tennis shoes were dry. "Going for a jog?"

"Yep. Wanna join?"

Jeremy forgot Alaric was a long distance runner. His chest burned by mile three. Alaric barely made a sound as they veered off the main street out of the neighborhood and headed towards the woods.

As they approached the cemetery, Jeremy called for a pause. Alaric jogged in place as Jeremy placed his hands on his knees and inhaled deeply.

"I thought you were good at chasing down vampires and werewolves and you can't keep up with a measly human?" Alaric said.

"Usually I'd be kicking your ass but it must be the weather or something. I'm not a hundred percent today," Jeremy responded. He straightened and caught Alaric watching him closely.

"What?"

Alaric stilled. "Are you feeling sick?"

Jeremy frowned. "No. I haven't caught a cold since I inherited the ring. Why?"

"Nothing," Alaric began moving in place, "never catching something is another benefit of the ring. Works great in times of runny nose and Chicken Pox epidemics."

Jeremy grinned. They started jogging towards the cemetery but at a much slower pace. Jeremy looked at the ring on Alaric's hand. Besides his uncle, Alaric was the only person who had a ring like his own. Since there was no way in hell Jeremy would talk to John, it had to be Alaric.

"Rick, how long have you had it?"

"The ring? About eighteen years now."

"Have you ever noticed a change in the way it works?"

If he were to be honest, Alaric would tell him he never paid attention to the ring other than when cooking or when someone took an interest in it. And if he was sure the question was one of innocent curiosity, that would be the answer, but Jeremy was searching for proof of something concerning the ring. The intelligence gathered from the immediate years prior to his return, that given freely in correspondence and that coming from Damon, suggested Jeremy's ring had undergone an alteration. Alaric counted the seconds in time with their footfalls. He glanced over to Jeremy. It would be easier to tell him the truth now, when he was in the beginning stages of suspicion, than to let him continue building steam. But it wasn't his truth to tell. Alaric exhaled and tightened his fist.

"Personally, no, I haven't, but you have to remember rings are individually crafted. I should say, each spell placed on a ring is unique. The witch who charmed it has power over it, and can bestow what she likes upon it," Alaric said.

Alaric saw Jeremy making connections. His stride lengthened and his breathing deepened. Alaric picked up the pace and Jeremy kept in step, his eyes ahead but his awareness turning inwards.

It was so obvious that Jeremy kept glancing over it—the enchantment. Alaric only had his ring for so long—how old was the ring he bore? Who charmed it? Maybe if he started tracking the witches, he could track the spell. The internal Rolodex started flipping through names and connections. Witches were hard to come by, but he knew one or two people that could get him some information, at least nudge him in the right direction. A name entered his consciousness and he quickly discarded it. Martin was not a source he ever saw himself using. That was a connection he would like to burn out of his mind. But he was a warlock, had a substantial grimoire collection, and was married to a Bennett. A few meetings with Martin and he would have cut down about half a year's worth of searching. A large rock situated itself between pride and logic. Jeremy stood in the shadow of it, cold. The way around was long, but the effort it would take to heave himself over was greater. The choice was just as obvious as the missing piece.

When they returned home, everyone else was awake and lounging around. Jeremy let Keira give him a hug and exchanged a nod with Adrien before grabbing a muffin and escaping up to his room. He had a lot to do and wasted no time getting to it.

"Where are you heading off to?" Jenna asked as Jeremy descended the steps, keys in hand.

"Charleston."

Jenna grabbed his coat off the banister before he did. "Charleston in West Virginia?"

Jeremy sighed. "The longer you hold my jacket hostage, the longer it'll take for me to get there."

"Will you tell me what's worth driving to another state on Christmas Eve?"

Jeremy held out his hand and she tossed the jacket at his chest.

"Business," he answered. Before she could question him further he yelled goodbye to the rest of the household and went out the door.

Jenna followed him. "Elena's party is tonight at 9:30!" she shouted after him. He revved the engine once to let her know he heard and took off. Jenna shut the door with a soft- spoken curse. At least he wasn't carrying his luggage so he was coming back. Maybe. Probably.

* * *

Elena fingered her necklace. She looked at the clock. 9:00 am.

"Crap."

Elena threw off the covers, grabbed her robe, and went down stairs to the study. Damon was already awake.

"You are so hot in the morning," Damon said when she took the book and the glass of blood from his hands.

"I need to talk to you."

Damon leaned back with a smile. "Finally. So where do you want to go for our little tryst? Paris? No, that's too cliché. How about—"

"Can we cut to reality please? You've been leaving things out, Damon."

Elena sat in the armchair next to him. Damon sighed and held out his hand.

"I need my Wheaties."

Elena eyed him before handing him the glass. "So?"

Damon took a swig. "So. He's gotten stronger. It takes a lot more to kill him now."

Elena pulled the robe tighter. She hated the casual tone Damon took whenever he talked of death and Jeremy in the same sentence.

"How do you know?"

The question was a trap. He knew she knew, but she didn't know how he finally came to the conclusion. He thought about lying but it wouldn't do any good. She would just go to the witch and he would be in a world of pain.

"I uh, well, it's a long story."

"Then give me the short version."

"Jeremy got into it with a newly turned wolf girl," Damon cleared his throat, "and she tore his throat out. Normal Frankenstein time up till then was about 8 to ten minutes. He was up and chasing the dog in four."

He waited for the inevitable explosion: _Damon! You _let _him get mauled by a werewolf? One of the only things in existence that can scare the shit out of even the oldest of vampires?_

"He survived a wolf bite?"

Damon relaxed. "It seems Jeremy is quite the surprise."

Elena stood and walked to the fireplace. When she first entered into this alliance with Damon, it was out of desperation. Out of everyone, Jeremy chose to share information with him. The bond they formed agitated her. And the fact Damon hadn't asked anything of her deepened the agitation.

She pushed the thought away to focus on Jeremy. It was worse than she thought. The added strength and agility was fine, it aided him in his career, but wolf bites? Immunity to vervain and intermediate spells? Jeremy wasn't…human anymore.

Elena stared into the fire. They missed the opportunity to test the spell. Now something may have happened, something irreversible.

"You're thinking too hard," Damon said in her ear. He suppressed a smile when she merely turned her head with a dismissive shake.

"You used to jump whenever I appeared next to you."

"You did it so often the shock wore off."

Damon picked up a log and threw it to the flames. "I never told you, but Jeremy saved me that night," he avoided her expression, "in St. Helena."

"Why are you telling me now?"

"Because," he shrugged, "when he saved me, he didn't know. He still doesn't know. He's the same annoying little punk, Elena."

Damon tipped his glass at her. "So stop worrying, it's bad for your pretty face."

"Damon," Elena started. Damon looked up towards the stairs.

"Stefan's awake. I'll be in the cellar. We're dangerously low on O neg."

She blinked and he was gone. Elena passed a hand over her face. All she wanted was her brother home for Christmas. Now she had a damn crisis looming over her head. There was only one person to help with damage control.

Stefan came into the study as she was on the way out.

"Good morning," he said, kissing her.

"Mmhm," she responded.

Stefan ran his hands down her arms. "Are you okay?"

Elena waved a hand. "I'm fine. I have some stuff to do before the party later. Damon is in the cellar, stop him from raiding the blood bank," she kissed his cheek, "thanks babe."

* * *

Jeremy parked his car away from the dozen or so littering the front lawn and took his time walking. How many parties did one town need anyway? The Salvatore house bustled with noise and shone with soft lights. He could see the gigantic Christmas tree from the driveway. These damn black tie events. The moment he entered the house his hand went to his neck. The tie. He saw it on the bed, next to the red gift-wrapped box for Elena. Shit. He swallowed his aggravation and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his dress shirt, adjusted the collar and the black suit jacket, took a deep breath and plunged into the flowing, laughing, drinking, eating stream of familiar and not so familiar faces.

"Gilbert, is that you?"

Jeremy barely had time to register the voice before a hand grabbed his shoulder and brought him around.

"Tyler, hey man," Jeremy said. They shook hands.

"It's been a long time, man, a long time," Tyler said. The guy looked practically the same except for the lumberjack beard. Jeremy noticed a gold ring on his finger and raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, every day is a new kind of hell," Tyler said with a smile.

"So, what have you been up to? Last I heard you were in Cleveland, doing business," Tyler said, steering him towards the bar set up in the library.

"Yeah, I left Cleveland a while ago, now I'm based in Phoenix," Jeremy said.

Tyler handed him a drink. Jeremy took a whiff and grimaced. "Jesus Christ, you haven't forgotten how to mix a drink after all this time, huh?"

"Courage, man. To ten years of traveling and coming home," Tyler said. They clinked glasses and knocked the drinks back, both shuddering.

"So, what have you been doing these past ten years, Lockwood?"

Tyler pointed to the wall behind him. "I've been doing that."

Jeremy looked up to see a framed charcoal etch of Caroline in profile. There were about five other portraits of the old gang, some in pencil, one in watercolor. Jeremy set down the glass and moved closer to the watercolor portrait. Tyler was good. He managed to capture her as though in movement but yet her features where discernable. The hazel eyes especially.

"Uh, went to UV, majored in Fine Arts and now I own a gallery in Richmond, teach a little art at the local college. Nothing major, but nice. Normal."

Dizziness enveloped his senses, threatening to overwhelm. So this was the dream realized. This was what it looked like, a gallery in Richmond, a teaching job, a stable life, valuable pieces hanging in expensive frames. Jeremy suppressed the sour taste in his mouth and raised his glass to Tyler.

"I knew you had the substance to make it, man. Cheers."

"What's with all the toasting? I feel like this is a Men's Club or something."

Caroline pulled Jeremy into a bone-crushing hug. He patted her back gently.

"Let me look at you," Caroline stepped back. "A little worse for wear but still adorable. Approaching handsome if we lose the facial hair and tame the hair a bit."

Caroline herself was as statuesque as ever in a sleek black dress ending just above the knees. Her blonde hair was combed back into a knot at the base of her neck. Jeremy saw the gold circle on her finger as she dropped her hands from straightening his jacket.

Caroline glanced at Tyler. "Do you see what he's growing on his face, Jeremy? It's horrendous."

Tyler rolled his eyes. "She likes it."

"She does _not_," Caroline said. She turned to hug Jeremy again. "Your sister is looking for you. She's out on the back porch, hosting."

Jeremy tried to speak but Tyler pushed him forward. "Don't. You'll just wake the bear."

"I'm standing right here, Tyler."

"I know, dear."

"I'll catch up with you guys soon," Jeremy managed before Caroline mouthed _now_.

He forgot how bossy she was. He smiled. It was good to see some things remained the same.

Despite it being cold, the porch was as active as inside. Situated every few feet were grated fire stacks. Strands of white lights created a curtain from the dark moonless night. A spread of cookies, cakes, and other pastries lined one wall and a hot chocolate/cider stand lined another. That was where Elena stood, chatting.

He didn't approach. Instead he stood between a set of stacks and looked out. The snow was a blue wave. The trees resembled blackened twisted metal. He has crisscrossed the country and no land produced the same form of unnaturalness within him. He was at home in this alien winter landscape.

"I thought you weren't coming."

Elena leaned against the banister beside him. He was struck then by the passage of time. Ten years ago his sister would have to be dragged to a party, and she would loathe to go out with her hair in a tight ponytail and in a red dress and yet, ten years later, here she stood wearing a vibrant red dress and the curtain of her hair drawn back. She looked where he did, seeing nothing but black.

"I had to run an errand and yes, it took all day."

"Since when did you read minds?"

"Since you became so easy to read."

Jeremy slid her a sidelong glance at the same time she glanced at him. He sighed and she nudged him in the side.

"Are we brother and sister again?"

"Yes, you're still a pain in my ass," Jeremy said.

He expected her to laugh, at least smile, but her face remained serious. She took his hand.

"Jeremy, will you stay after the party? I…there are some things I need to tell you."

Jeremy frowned. "Elena?"

She caught the meaning in his voice and discarded it with quick headshake. "I just…I have to talk to you."

"Ok, I'll stay after. But this better not be some trick to get me to wrap presents or something equally mundane. I've had enough of tricks these past three days."

A small smile chased the solemnity from her face. "I heard about the Christmas tins incident."

She looked for a sign of discomfort and saw the slight tightening at the corner of his mouth. Elena let go of his hand and crossed her arms.

"Want to talk about it?"

Jeremy turned his head. "What's there to talk about? The kid's cute, gave Adrien hell."

Elena stared at him. The key to Jeremy was waiting and the right amount of pressure. All she had to do was stare silently in the same attitude and whatever bothered him at the moment would tumble out.

"I can't be angry about it. I read the letter, I get it. A kid is a possibility when you're married to someone, right?"

Jeremy caught himself. "Elena, I'm—"

"I knew what I was in for. Continue purging," she said.

Jeremy ran a hand through his hair. "I can't be angry but I am. I thought…I don't know what I thought. I'm an idiot and it's Christmas. Let's not talk about it anymore, ok?"

"Ok," Elena said. She looked at his hands, saw that he had nothing in them.

"Do you want some hot chocolate?"

"Is it that instant stuff?"

"No, it's the homemade stuff. Don't make that face. I'll put a cinnamon stick and some marshmallows in it since you're acting like such a baby," Elena said.

"Marshmallows are ageless," Jeremy said. Elena grinned and left him. He focused again on the snow. He had to adjust his plans. Instead of leaving midway through the party, he would have to leave in the early morning. The old witch he visited in Charleston pointed him in the direction of upstate New York, to a man named Suley. If everything turned out to be nothing, he could come back to Mystic Falls for New Years, make Elena and Jenna happy.

The rapid flickering of the firelight broke through his thoughts. The flames dimmed then steadily grew brighter, more robust. Warmth surrounded him, completely blocking any thin drafts of cold air.

"Hey, Mr. Gilbert! I brought you some hot chocolate."

Jeremy relaxed his muscles and schooled his face before turning to the girl at his elbow. He took the proffered cup with a smile and a nod.

"Thank you Lux," he said. His eyes moved to the figure standing behind her.

"Hello."

Gone were the waves of glossy back brown. Straight, thick black hair brushed her bare shoulders. Her deep purple gown, with all its tucks and sweeps made Jeremy wish for the tie. He rested his eyes on her collarbones, on the fine line lines of her neck, on the angular bones of her face, softened somewhat by time, and finally on her eyes. In his dreams, rare that they were, her eyes were always hazel, always shifting. That night they were a brilliant green, oddly burning.

"Hey Lux," Jeremy bent to look her in the eyes, "this hot chocolate's missing a candy cane. Think you can help me out?"

Lux took the cup with a smile. "I like it like that too." She sent her mother a grin before she went. They were alone for the first time in ten years. Every word he wanted to say between the last time and now crowded his mind.

Bonnie took a step forward. Her eyes roamed over his face. "You have scars."

"Yeah," Jeremy touched the one above his eyebrow, "they're only superficial."

"The ring should protect you from these things."

"It does enough," Jeremy said.

Bonnie pursed her lips. "You were always so casual with your life. I'm not surprised to find how trivial you treat scars."

"Not casual, Bonnie. Nor trivial. My life has been neither to me. Then again, we always saw things differently, didn't we?"

Her arms lifted and with the movement came the flash of a gold band. Bitterness flooded his mouth.

"I'm going to do us both a favor and leave. Excuse me," Jeremy walked by her. He caught a whiff of her perfume, the same light spicy scent from all those years ago, and he quickened his escape through the chattering, flowing group of people. He had to get out. The house was too small and once he caught the smell it was everywhere.

Jeremy pushed his way to the front and burst out the door into the frigid cold air. The heat of the house still warmed his neck. He needed to be further away.

"Jeremy!"

He ignored the call and continued walking up the gravel drive to the road.

"Jeremy," Bonnie grabbed his arm to stop him.

"I have to go," Jeremy said.

"Jeremy, please, let's go back to the house. Don't leave like this."

"Why?" Jeremy looked down at the hand holding him still. The gold band burned away his composure.

"You left me like this. You strung me along, you made me believe. And then you tell me in a fucking letter you didn't want to hurt me, but you had to be honest with yourself? You should have been honest with me before I fell in love with you," Jeremy said.

Bonnie dropped her hand. "I was honest with you. I asked you not to have those feelings for me. I told you what I wanted."

"Yes, and then you wanted more. Don't play selective memory with me, Bonnie, don't treat me like some sixteen year-old jackass."

"What do you want me to say, Jeremy? What? We were kids dealing with issues no one should deal with and we were thrown together. It wasn't—"

"Real? Okay, fine. For you it wasn't. I was just the guy before Luka. I get it," Jeremy interrupted.

"I just want to know why, after what he did, why you chose him? Why you married him?"

"I…" Bonnie threw up her hands, "I needed him. He gave me what no one else could."

Jeremy dropped his head. If he heard this answer yesterday, it would have destroyed him. No man wanted to hear he wasn't good enough for the woman he loved. No man wanted to hear everything he thought he had with this woman paled in comparison to what she had with the one. The blow would have shattered him. Instead it fell hard across his body, busted his faith and dimmed all the occasions she smiled for him, brushed her lips against his, ran her hand through his hair and spoke softly in his ear. It didn't matter if she said she loved him. All illusions were expelled in a soundless exhalation of air. He was empty. He could breathe.

He lifted his eyes to her. The moon had come out. The silver rays illuminated the world around them. He saw clearly the distress in her face, the fist clenching the fabric of her dress, the goosebumps dotting her skin. A polish of tears distorted the green of her eyes.

Jeremy took off his jacket. Bonnie lowered her head when he draped it over her shoulders. He felt her shiver when he pulled it tight.

"My candy cane probably melted," Jeremy said. Bonnie quickly wiped at her cheeks.

"You hate peppermint," she said.

He inclined his head towards the house. They walked back in silence, the soft crunch of their footsteps over gravel and snow sounding in perfect sequence.


	6. Time

**A/N:** I had a severe case of college and writer's block. The world's smallest hammer made this update possible, as well as some fantastic reviews and all the alerts. I am pleased so many readers enjoy this fic, and I thank you for reading, reviewing, and alerting. Enjoy.

* * *

Bonnie holed up in Gram's house after casting the spell. She drained her remaining strength attaching warding spells to every conceivable entrance and collapsed halfway up the stairs.

It was morning when she regained consciousness. Her neck was stiff. Her limbs were like jelly and her head beat in cadence with her heart. A phone rang somewhere near. She ignored it and tried going up the stairs but dizziness forced her back. She stumbled to the little room off the living area. A memory of Grams laid out on the bed she now occupied. Tears started to run into her ears and along her scalp. They were hot. They were for someone else.

Two days passed in a dream of a dance that never happened. They waltzed in the dark, over broken stones and dry leaves. Rasping voices came out of the shadows, pale, desiccated hands swept the edge of her dress. The moon peered down at them, round and full. They were human, full of blood, of life, prey. But what was danger compared to this endless waltz?

Someone tugged at her black sleep and pulled her into a bright morning. Her eyes were crusted and her lips painfully chapped. She sat up carefully, testing her weak limbs. Her hands were stained with something. Hot water running, she stepped under the spray in her clothes, lifting her face into the warm water. It sluiced down her face and neck and hair to form rivulets of coppery brown water. She raised her hands and saw the rusty color of dried blood dissolve from under her fingernails and the lines and creases of her palms and knuckles.

This was what her life turned into—bloody water circling the drain.

Bonnie had just stepped out of the shower when the phone rang. The answering machine clicked on.

"Bonnie, hey, it's me."

Bonnie stilled in the middle of dressing.

"Look, I know it's been a rough situation, and I know you want some space, nice warding spells by the way, but tomorrow morning I'm coming by. Fair warning."

The machine beeped. Bonnie released a breath. Reality came rushing back to crush her. She forgot the promise she made to Luka. Hell, she forgot Luka. She searched the house for her cell and found it on the stairs. Ten missed calls and twice as many texts. Everyone was worried about her, even Damon mustered up some caring and floated her a message.

Bonnie weighed the cell in her hand. Elena would want to come over and talk about it, not just about defeating Klaus and Katherine, but about the cave and Jeremy and what it cost. She set the phone on the kitchen counter. Tomorrow the world would come crashing in. Until then, she didn't want any part of it.

The day passed into evening. Bonnie sat on the couch, surrounded by bowls of chips and popcorn and DVD cases. The opening scene of _Some Kind of Wonderful_ began to play and she tapped her foot in unison to the opening drumbeat. The doorbell chimed and she jumped, spilling the bowl of popcorn in her lap to the ground.

It wasn't until she flicked on the porch light did Bonnie remember the warding spells. She swung open the door, a spell already forming on her lips.

"Bonnie," Jeremy said. Her hand slipped from the doorknob. It was impossible. At least it should have been impossible.

"What are you doing here?"

Jeremy looked into the house and shoved his hands into the pockets of his pullover. "Can I come in? It's kinda cold out here."

Bonnie stepped aside, glad it was dark so her panic wasn't so readily apparent. The warding spells worked, Luka intimated that much. She shut the door and observed the dark outline of Jeremy's back. Whatever she did, it was strong. Or maybe she was weaker than she thought.

Jeremy went towards the only light source, the television, and sat on the couch. He stared at the television, then at the cluttered coffee table, then to her. The ghostly blue of the movie made his face glow.

"No one has heard from you in two days, Bonnie. I haven't heard from you in two days."

Bonnie came to stand near the sofa. "I'm fine. See?" The lamps in the living room switched on. Pale warm light washed over them.

Jeremy blinked then focused on her. His eyes traveled over her face, down her neck, all the way down to her fingers touching the sofa fabric. Her face grew warm under his inspection. It wasn't just the way his eyes regarded her—it was the heat they engendered. Four days ago he turned those dark eyes on her and before she could draw a breath hands were roaming and lips were crashing and sliding. Four days ago. Bonnie stood still.

"You should go home."

"Why?"

There were so many reasons. All of them were piss poor. She settled on a generality.

"Because you should be resting."

Jeremy came towards her, stopping a few feet from where she stood. "I couldn't stay away."

Bonnie inhaled sharply. "That's the problem, Jeremy."

"What?"

"I don't think we should do this anymore."

She said it softly but it came out like a gunshot. Sound exploded into silence. The realization was a gradual process. His body went slack then tensed. The muscle in his cheek began to tick with the fixedness of a clock. His eyes darkened by degrees until they were hard black chips.

"I need a reason," he said at last.

"Because it's dangerous for—"

"Please, Bonnie, I'm not a moron. It wasn't dangerous five months ago. It wasn't dangerous four days ago. It wasn't dangerous the last time I kissed you, two days ago," he stepped closer, "be honest with me. I deserve that from you."

His proximity threw her off. It was an unconscious manipulation on his part. He had no idea the energy it took for her to remain firm. The effort ranged from exhausting to mildly painful. Being near him, unable to indulge in a touch was like an itch at the base of her skull, spreading along her nerves, flooding her blood vessels. It was enriched by fear, fear of giving in and being honest: she loved him. And the depth of it frightened her more than any sort of monster or evil.

Bonnie stepped around him. Her eyes strayed to the popcorn on the floor. He asked her for the truth. Maybe he needed the truth. Maybe those were the right words.

"The truth is when I'm with you, I feel weak. I feel useless, I feel compromised. I'm not strong when I'm with you, Jeremy," she closed her eyes, "and I want to be strong."

The silence fell over them like a curtain, heavy and dark.

Her fingernails dug into her palms. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Look at me."

Bonnie hesitated then did as he asked. Tears muted the features of his face but she read the devastation clearly.

"Are you doing this because you're trying to protect me?"

"No."

"Then why? Because you're lying."

Bonnie shook her head. "I…I have to choose. I have to be stronger."

Jeremy ran a hand over his hair. The movement drew her eyes to the ring on his finger.

"Bonnie," he started but was interrupted by the answering machine.

"Bonnie, it's me again. I think I found a reversal strong enough to break your spells. It took me a couple hours of research but it was worth it. I…I hope you're okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

Jeremy stared straight into her eyes as Luka's voice played between them. She read every thought that flashed over his naked face. The feet separating them were cavernous. When he dropped his eyes and turned his body, she felt the snap. She sank with every measured step he took out of the house, down the steps, and down the moonlit street.

* * *

The cold stung. His feet ached from walking. His hands and face were raw from the wind. The road was dark; the sky was devoid of moon and stars. He walked directionless in a lightless world.

Time moved in memories rather than minutes or hours. He passed springs jumping off the dock and summers fishing in the Gulf in the snow. Memory, like time, elapsed into a prolonged syncopation. Life was once full of poetry. The grief over his parents' death, the agony of living when all he wanted to do was be free from being human, the bittersweet discovery of something, _someone_ worthwhile—it all flowed, had meaning. Now life had jumbled, become some mixed bag of past creation myth and present truth. All he could do was walk.

A memory flitted past him. He reared to a stop, swaying on the black road. Her face shimmered in the air. He was hallucinating. He was remembering. He watched the tears streak her face, watched as she lifted her face to the sky, watched the shadows move over the contorted features, watched her lips form the dead language to augment his reality.

Jeremy awoke breathing in dirt and snow. The world was a spectrum of light through gray slush. The sun fell on half his face but there was little warmth. He moved then stopped, then moved again. His entire body was sore and light, like a muscle after a severe cramp. He sucked in air as he crawled up the shoulder to the blacktop. He must have passed out, rolled down the embankment, and landed against a tree. He managed to get to his feet. A few yards away was a green road sign. The nearest town was three miles away.

By the time Jeremy walked into Ritter, he regained most of his bearings. He was about sixty miles north of Mystic Falls. He left his cell, keys, and wallet at Elena's. He had a roll of twenties in his pants pocket, a survival tactic he learned in Reno. He needed a hot shower, breakfast, and a drink.

The first place he noticed was bar. The sun said it wasn't noon; Jeremy saw someone move past the windows, pulling down chairs. He knocked on the locked door. The proprietor, a middle-aged man, came to the window. He rolled a toothpick from one corner of his mouth to the other. They shared a look and the man came and unlocked the door.

Jeremy followed him to the bar and sat on a hard stool at the end of it. The man took a short, round glass, broke open a bottle of dusty looking scotch, and poured it to the top. Jeremy drank it in one go.

The bartender poured him another. "Where'd you say you were from?" the man asked.

Jeremy held the drink in his hand. A beam of sunlight fell over him and he leaned back out of its path. "A place not far from here," he said. The second drink took more time to swallow.

"But far enough for you to forget its name, huh?"

Jeremy looked at the man. He was drying a glass, looking out at the street.

"Something like that. Do you know the closest motel, hotel, hole-in-the-wall?"

The man jerked his head north. "The Yeats Hotel. Up this street, make a right, keep going eight blocks and there it is."

Jeremy laid out two twenties. The man took one and gave the other back.

"Twenty is plenty for the scotch."

Jeremy said nothing. He left and followed the bartender's directions to the Yeats Hotel. It was like a Best Western but with a better Continental breakfast and atmosphere. He got a room on the third floor, facing the pool. Blue tarp peeked out beneath a layer a snow. He sighed and unlocked the door to his room, chucking the key into the astray and heading straight to the shower.

Practicality forced him to walk around in a bathrobe for a few hours while his clothes dried. He looked through the telephone book at the stores in town. He planned on making a trip to the local supermarket for some whiskey, peanut butter, and bread, and to the Goodwill for some clothes. Then he looked at the date.

Jeremy stood up and went to the phone. He should make a call, probably two, definitely one. His hand closed around the receiver, picked it up, put it back. He stared at the grainy paisley wallpaper. The words disappeared whenever he thought of them. He made a mistake like this the last time he left home. He left the phone and went to see if his pants were dry. There was a liquor store in the lobby. He should get himself something since it was Christmas.

* * *

To recollect an uncomfortable memory, strip away the emotion. Jeremy learned this dealing with the newly turned. Emotions turned things messy, distracted those involved from any true purpose.

"And what is the true purpose?" Margaret asked. They were on the phone. He was in Big Sur, watching the afternoon sky explode into color.

"To get back to some relative state of normalcy. Deal with the cause of transition and move on. The sooner done the better."

Waves crashed in the immediate silence. He could see two bodies bobbing over crests. "Guess what Fred is doing right now? Paddling out to meet the sun sink into the Pacific."

"The same Fred who was bent on ripping apart any pretty brunette that looked like his Vampire ex?"

"Yep," Jeremy took a swig of beer, "and you were convinced he was a lost cause."

"Once again, I underestimated you. Maybe it has to do with your youth. Or the fact I know little of your life before you started saving people."

Jeremy hesitated before delivering the stock reply, "All that matters is who I am now."

He waited for Margaret to breach another subject, like if he was taking care of himself, but this time she was not to be deterred.

"What a deeply flawed, somewhat hypocritical statement, Jeremy," Margaret said. Heat rose in his face. She had been angry with him many times, furious occasionally, but never disappointed. She continued, "If you believe your past does nothing to shape who you are now, then you've been defrauding everyone, including me."

She had revealed the impetus of all his endeavors in one well-crafted admonishment. He partly wondered how long she had been drawing him out, then dismissed the thought. How long didn't matter. He was properly chastised. He let his silence tell her as much.

"When are you going to take your own advice?" Margaret asked.

Jeremy watched a wave swell, tuck in, and transform into a glittering moving barrel. It rolled along for a minute, independent of the ocean, then rejoined the hilly surface in a crash of foam and noise.

"Jeremy?"

"I hope the day never comes."

* * *

The day the curse was to be broken, Klaus moved and took Elena. That was the plan. What wasn't the plan was to run smack into an all out war. The minute they (Stefan, Damon, Caroline, Jeremy, Bonnie, and Alaric) stepped inside the parameter of the field, they were attacked. Alaric passed the dagger onto Jeremy and ordered him to the clearing. They separated. Stefan and Damon covered Bonnie until they lost sight of her. Caroline found Tyler in the melee and the two of them rejoined with Alaric. Jeremy went straight to where the heaviest fighting occurred, around the clearing. Elena was on the ground before Klaus, next to two unconscious bodies. Bonnie was on her knees clutching her head, a young woman standing above her. A trio of witches and a wizard were also kneeling in pain, the wizard being Luka. The plan was unraveling. Jeremy weighed the dagger in his hand. Stefan had killed another vampire when he saw Jeremy running. He called to Damon, who was closer. Bonnie broke through the lock the witch placed on her and hurled her across the clearing into a tree.

Klaus took the blade and slit the throats of the young vampire and werewolf, then plunged the knife into Elena. Jeremy leapt into the circle, dagger raised, ready to strike, when Bonnie spoke the words, drawing on the latent energy of the dead witches. She saw Jeremy behind Klaus the moment before she was overcome by light. Damon emerged from the woods to feel the force of the power blow him back, a wall of fire separating those fighting from those in the circle. When it subsided, Klaus and Jeremy were down, and Bonnie shook Elena. Elena gasped, clutching her chest. Klaus began to stir. Bonnie slipped the Gilbert ring from Elena's hand and was about to go to Jeremy when Katherine appeared, knocking her to the ground. The ring fell from her hand. Elena tackled Katherine. Klaus looked over to Jeremy, saw the dagger and the moonstone. He had one other option with the power that still resonated in the air. He reached for the dagger at the same instance Jeremy woke. Damon sped to Klaus. He was fast, but Klaus had millennia of quickness that did not instantly dissipate with a flash of light. Bonnie was right on top of them when Klaus sank the dagger into Jeremy's chest, her hand pressing the ring into his palm. Damon took off Klaus' head.

In the clearing on the last full moon of May, Bonnie, with help from Luka, cast a spell warding off death through the mixing of Damon's blood and the centuries old power of the Gilbert ring. Jeremy Gilbert died and was reborn in the span of a minute.

Ten years later, Jeremy sat in the study of his sister's house and listened to how his entire existence had changed as he stared into the eyes of the one who had changed it. He listened as Elena explained the mounting complications from a spell without precedent. He listened and he understood—time had ceased to be his from the second the dagger pierced his heart.


	7. Conventional Wisdom

**A/N: **This is the penultimate chapter. Enjoy.

* * *

As luck would have it, the hotel put on a Christmas dinner in the lounge. It wasn't something they advertised, since it was mainly for staff, but guests were welcome. Bing Crosby and David Bowie sang about peace on Earth as people in uniforms helped themselves. He sat at a single square table near the window, eating Peking duck and mashed potatoes and sipping punch. Everyone stared at him at least once. He would stare too if some guy showed up in dress slacks, slippers, and a robe.

Afterwards, over some custard and homemade apple currant pie, the maintenance crew put on a little concert. They were all British, which went with the theme of the place. They sang all the known Christmas carols, a few masses, and ended with a rendition of Dolly Parton's "Hard Candy Christmas." It was the strangest thing Jeremy ever heard, and he found himself clapping the loudest when it was over.

He was about to leave the lobby when the front desk clerk handed him a gift bag.

"Merry Christmas Mr. Gilbert," she said. Her grin was warm and in the soft lights she was exceptionally attractive. Jeremy took the bag and offered her the same greeting. He left before it became too easy to stay.

The air was bitter cold and the night stark. The stars shined with a white blue hardness he never before noticed. Winter was the worst time of year. Everything became clearer in the absence of warmth. Everything seemed more fragile. When he got to the room he turned the heat up to sweltering and reclined on the bathroom tile. In the dark he formulated a new plan and dreamt of a life he never lived.

* * *

Bonnie massaged her temples, inhaled deeply, and started again. She adjusted her measurements and added two drops of blood instead of one. She whispered a slightly tweaked incantation over the wooden bowl, then lit the contents on fire. The ash was white this time and her shoulders sagged.

"The map," she said. Damon handed it to her and she spread the ash over at least four states.

"Now what?" Damon asked.

"Now we blow the ash off."

"This is the most sophisticated method of finding him?"

"If you have a better way then let's do it. Because believe me when I say, the sooner we find him, the better it is for you," she said. Damon threw up his hands.

"Fine."

They bent forward a little and blew. A red line appeared on the map, originating from Mystic Falls and terminating midway between two towns, Fortis and Ritter. Bonnie straightened.

"He didn't get as far as I expected," Damon said.

"Sixty-five miles on foot in freezing conditions in seven hours is pretty far for us humans," Bonnie said. She grabbed her coat and keys. "I leave now I can be there in thirty."

Damon grabbed her elbow before she rounded the desk. "Uh, not so fast. You've been doing magic for almost five hours straight. You stay here, placate Elena. I'll go."

Bonnie looked at her elbow then at him. "I only needed you to find him. He's been found."

Damon tightened his hold by a fraction, which was like placing her arm in a wrench. She swallowed a grimace and held up a hand, drawing energy from the fireplace behind them. Their power struggles were never pleasant and had not lessened in intensity over time. Despite Damon becoming a somewhat integral part of her life, she still recognized him as the monster that casually destroyed her peace of mind. And every time Damon looked at Bonnie, he saw that monster.

He shook her arm. "You needed me to save his life," Damon bent his head, "you still do. So don't dismiss me."

Bonnie lowered her hand. It was pointless to argue over a forgone conclusion: she was stuck with him for the duration of the search. "We go together. I'll call Elena on the way," she said.

Damon stared down at her for an extra couple of seconds before releasing her. She refused to rub the ache from her elbow. Instead she took the keys and tossed them to him.

"Since your driving arm isn't inflamed," she said.

Damon smiled at her back as she led the way out of her house.

Elena answered on the first ring. "Have you found him?"

"We found where he might be. We are heading that way now."

Elena looked to Stefan, who tapped his ear. "Where? Stefan can meet you."

"Stefan can keep his knightly ass at home. There's already a vampire on this one," Damon said.

Elena sighed. "You know I'm worried right? Not just about Jeremy, but about you and Damon together, without an intermediary."

Bonnie glanced over to Damon. He grinned at her. "We have an understanding."

She changed the subject. "Is Lux still asleep?"

"Yes, she's still passed out. When she wakes up—"

"Tell her I will send her something, a sign that everything is okay. And I'll call as soon as I find him."

"Alright," Elena paused, "Why am I here instead of out there, looking?"

"Because…it's not you he needs to tell him this time."

After a few more assurances Bonnie hung up and leaned into the seat. Buildings faded into black and white and gray forest. It had been seven hours. She confronted the worst-case scenario first: he was dead in a ditch somewhere between Fortis and Ritter. It was unlikely. She was sure if he were, she would have felt it, right beneath the ribs.

"You told Elena that sometimes you felt a strain, especially when you hadn't fed," Bonnie said.

Damon looked at her. Her face was angled towards the window. He focused on the road. "I would tell you if he was dead in a ditch somewhere."

Her eyes snapped to his. "Don't do that."

"You let your Great Wall down. I couldn't help but to take a look."

"Well, it's back in place," she turned back to sightless gazing.

"Remember the month after your divorce?" Damon asked, rousing Bonnie out of her thoughts.

"What about it?"

"Lux was in Maine with Luka, Elena and Stefan were taking their obnoxiously clichéd honeymoon, who cares about what the others were doing. It was just you in town, all by your lonesome," Damon grinned, "until I returned."

Bonnie kept her eyes on the blur of woodland. "Reminiscing doesn't become you."

"Who said anything about reminiscing? That would imply I would like to, at some time, repeat the experience."

"And that will never happen, yes, I am in full agreement with you," she said.

"You know what I realized about you that month, Bonnie?"

Bonnie waited for the inevitable answer. His smile slowly dimmed until all she saw was a peculiar blend of sincerity and animal intensity. He shifted his attention suddenly to her face. "If you weren't so completely in love with Jeremy and so completely distrusting of me, I could see myself having that sort of life with you."

It was the last thing she expected. But then again, their very relationship was defined by the unexpected. He looked away quickly, as though to prevent her from saying something sympathetic. He could have gone on looking at her. She had no sympathetic feelings to share.

They sped past the exit to Fortis twenty-five minutes later. Her stomach twisted with every mile until she actually became nauseous. Before she could say pull over, Damon had pulled off onto the shoulder. They exited the car, looking in every direction.

"Anything?" she asked after a minute.

"No, just a bunch of semis and a cow mooing a mile away," he said.

Her eyes started burning. She walked about a quarter mile down the road, stopped, and stared out over the black and white landscape. He had to be close. The spell was strong, it led her here. And Damon said…she blinked. A hot tear dropped to her neck. He was alive. He just wasn't here.

"Bonnie."

She shut her eyes and inhaled sharply. When she turned, her face was dry.

"Did you find something?"

"It looks like someone crawled up the shoulder to the road. There's broken brush, some tracks. I'm not a hunter of any repute, but I think it's human."

Bonnie stared at him until he rolled his eyes. "Alright, so I'm a hunter of _some _repute. It's called modesty, Bennett."

He started back to the car and Bonnie followed. "Where do you think he is?" Bonnie asked.

"Well, the red brick road ended beyond Fortis and a few miles from Ritter. So we head to Ritter, knock on a few doors, compel a few of the town folks, and we find Jeremy defrosting in some cockroach motel."

"You sound so sure," Bonnie said. They looked at each other over the hood.

"You sound genuine," he said.

"I'm trusting you. And normally I can't trust you as far as I can throw you."

Damon grinned. "You mean you can."

Bonnie kept the smile from forming. They got in the car and headed towards Ritter.

* * *

Jeremy rose from the tile minutes to one in the morning. He dressed in the dark. He turned on the television to check the weather. It promised to be a miserable five miles to the bus depot. He debated stealing the robe as he drank off the complimentary bottles of whiskey and scotch in the gift bag. He cracked open the door and hissed. It was no good. He left twenty for the robe.

The earliest bus to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania left at precisely 1:30 am. "No stragglers, no mercy," the customer service woman told him. The next bus was at five and that was too late. He passed a gas station with a glowing electric blue clock. 1:25 am. He could see the red lights of the bus about a mile away. This was the test. Forget the things they told him; forget the suspicions he had—this was the test. He had five minutes to get a ticket and get on that bus.

Purpose flipped the switch. One step and a deep breath got him to the ticket counter. The young man behind the glass straightened and raised an eyebrow.

Money exchanged hands and then he was at the bus doors, climbing on after the driver. The bus was empty save for five other people, all of them looking washed out by the hard lights of the depot. He settled by the window a few rows behind the other passengers.

1:30 am came with the pneumatic release of the brakes and the snap of the bus door. The bus rolled away from the bright overhead into an amber darkness. Jeremy pressed against the glass as the bus made a sharp u-turn then continued silently down the road to the interstate. His eyes hit on the Yeats Hotel as it approached. A car was parked in front of the lobby. Damon stepped out of the lobby and angled his head to the building behind him. He saw the back of a red coat, black hair skimming the shoulders.

Jeremy watched until night engulfed the red coat, until it swallowed the Yeats Hotel and finally the town itself. He closed his eyes and saw the red coat over a chair and that black hair skimming a pillow. If he had stayed put. He opened his eyes to stare at the ring. It was a good thing he decided to stop over in Harrisburg. He needed something stronger than a fucked up spell if he was going to change this.

* * *

"He's not here," Bonnie said.

Damon turned to look back at her. She was gazing out to the street. He broke the lock anyway and stepped inside the room. Lingering heat and a twenty were the only signs of previous occupation.

"We just missed him," Damon called to her.

He swiped the twenty on the way out and came to stand next to her. She was leaning against the balcony, head pressed into her hands.

"That perky little thing at the front desk told me he called the bus depot. So we go, see what buses left between 1:00 and now and we beat him there, drag his ass back to Mystic Falls. Done."

Bonnie rose, wiping her face quickly. "No."

Damon raised an eyebrow. "No to which part?"

"To all of it."

Damon opened his mouth to argue but her eyes went to him. He snapped his mouth closed. Her eyes were dark. He spotted saltwater beads along her eyelashes and Christ on a stick if he didn't care too damn much. It was becoming trite, loving a woman who was in love with another man. At least it wasn't Stefan this time.

"Didn't you say you would send something to Lux?"

Bonnie blinked. "While you were chatting up that perky little thing I sent her a note."

She looked at him for a few more seconds then stepped forward and kissed his cheek. Her lips were warm and firm. His fingers brushed her arms as she stepped back.

"Thank you, Damon."

He said nothing. She didn't expect him to. They walked back to the car and left Ritter for home.


	8. Circles and Lines, Part I

**A/N:** This is the fruit of months long hiatus. Consider it a weird climax/epilogue that has a part II partially completed. I'm not even going to say when this will be finished, but it will be. Thank you to those who reviewed, alerted, and favorited. I am much obliged. Enjoy and, if you can, review.

* * *

The birds above the door chirped as it opened. Alma Brooks put down the chicken sandwich and grabbed her cane. She appeared from the back of the store, ready to accost the unlucky son of a bitch who interrupted her lunch.

Jeremy looked up from a bowl of devil root. He regarded her then the raised cane with a grin. "Please don't tell me you're still bashing people in the head with that thing."

Alma released a frustrated sigh. "I should give you one good wallop for breaking into my store and disrupting my lunch."

"Before you do, I need some help."

Alma set down the cane with a thump. "Vampires, werewolves?"

"No," Jeremy held up his ring hand, "more like witch."

Alma led him to the back and pushed him onto a stool. She unfolded a pair of ancient wire glasses and perched them upon her nose.

"Okay, let me see this ring." She took his hand and inspected the silver band.

"When did you get this?"

"About twelve years ago."

"And before that?"

"It belonged to my father."

"He gave it to you?"

"No, my uncle did."

Alma glanced at him over her glasses. "Your father is dead?"

Jeremy nodded. Alma tilted his hand this way and that. For an old woman, she had a bruising grip. He shifted on the stool and she squeezed his thumb. "Hold still."

He shifted his attention to the room. It was circular, with brick walls and a gray stone floor. Floor to ceiling cabinets lined half the room, every one of them filled with herbs, flowers, grains, animal parts, minerals, and precious metals. A jar of emeralds sat at the very top of one cabinet.

"You don't have any locks or alarms on those cabinets, Alma," Jeremy said.

"What caught your eye? The wolfbane-vervain mixture? Or perhaps the emeralds?"

Jeremy looked at Alma. She still studied the ring.

"Any person big enough can come in and take without payment. They will not get far, I promise you that," she said.

Jeremy smiled. Witches had very little use for conventions. He looked to the other side of the room. A long pine table was crammed with beakers, bowls, stone cutting tools, an old fashioned Bunsen burner, and other things. It was an alchemist's dream. Empty copper cages hung high above the table.

Alma abruptly dropped his hand and shuffled away to a 1950s refrigerator in the corner.

Jeremy rubbed the numbing flesh with a scowl. "Did you have to cripple me?"

"Cripple you? What a puss," Alma mumbled as she brought out a teapot. She came back to the table, reached beneath it and set down a teacup. She went to the cabinets and quickly retrieved six little bags of dried mint, elderberry root, devil's claw root, jujube date, St. John's wort, and lavender.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I am making you tea. You look thirsty."

"With devil's claw and St. John's wort?"

Alma ground the six ingredients together with three quick twists of a stone pestle and dumped the mixture into the teapot. She cupped the porcelain and a pungent steam billowed from the spout. She filled the teacup to the brim and gestured to him.

"Come, drink."

Jeremy stared at her. "What will this do?"

Alma clicked her tongue. "You make me impatient. You come here, wanting help. This is how I do it. Drink."

Jeremy slipped off the stool and reached for the cup. The liquid was brown and brackish. His nose revolted. Without another thought he downed it. Sweat broke out on every inch of his body. His muscles became heavy, his vision swam, and his eyeballs itched. The air roared. The metal around his finger scorched the flesh. He grabbed at it but Alma pushed his hand away.

"I have to take it off!"

"Take it off and you die," she said.

The consequence didn't seem so dire as the prospect of burning from the inside out. She must have seen it in his eyes. Cold water splashed against his lips and crashed down his throat. He sank to the stone floor, shaking. His mind blackened.

When Jeremy woke, he saw Alma's swinging feet.

"Took you long enough. Get off the floor and eat something."

He could kill her or he could do as she said. He really wanted to kill her. Alma hummed some tune and Jeremy started to move, fighting the lightheadedness and the nausea to climb onto a stool.

He glared at Alma as she pushed a plate towards him. It was a chicken salad sandwich, no lettuce, lots of tomato, just as he preferred.

"You almost killed me."

"If you were fully human I would have."

Jeremy took one half of the sandwich and bit into it. He chewed slowly, his jaw feeling detached.

Alma waited until he ate the one half before speaking. "The spell on the ring is powerful. The crafting is of about a dozen different spells that should not work on so small a thing as your ring."

"But it does," Jeremy ventured.

Alma took off her glasses and tapped them against her chin. "Why do you need my help?"

"I am being tracked by a witch and I need to be invisible."

Alma dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "She is not tracking you any more. No witch is after you."

"But she—"

"Perhaps before you came here, but not now. I feel no spell looking for you."

Jeremy looked down, his eyes sweeping the ground as he thought. Alma assessed him carefully. He had a young face but was old. And he would be old for a long time. But before her bones turned to dust, there was a conundrum to detangle.

"Is this witch the same who initially crafted this ring?"

Jeremy hesitated. "No. I think it was a direct ancestor, Emily Bennett."

Alma leaned back on the stool. "Emily Bennett."

She examined Jeremy for a moment before continuing, "I know of a Bonnie Bennett, a good witch, prominent in power."

Jeremy remained silent. Alma pointed to the plate. "Finish eating."

He picked up the sandwich and took a bite.

"My sister called after your visit Christmas Eve. She directed you to Suley."

He forgot every witch or warlock was somehow connected. "Yes."

"Suley is not the appropriate authority on this matter. Blood knows best in this case."

Jeremy swallowed hard enough to nearly choke. "You are related to Bonnie?"

"A distant aunt, but blood is blood."

Alma nodded to the ring. "I will tell you what it is. I assume she did not tell you everything, or she could not," she eyed him.

Bonnie could not. He didn't allow her the opportunity. As soon as they filled in that missing scene, he didn't care about context, about why. His only interest was the sudden elongation of an already narrow future.

Alma stood. "There are some labels that need doing. I will tell you as you work."

Jeremy couldn't retort if he wanted.

"Bring the roots to the middle shelf and the dried leaves to the bottom."

"I thought I was labeling."

"This is part of that."

Jeremy grunted as he bent and began pulling out jars. Alma opened a packet of candied ginger and started eating them, observing him.

"In your dealing with vampires you had a witch create one such as the one your friend, Margaret, wears. We have our ways of knowing, boy," Alma added when Jeremy snapped his head towards her.

"Vampires have sun rings. Humans have protection rings. Same thing, different species. The ring itself is not significant; it is the spell that is cast. Your ring is old though, older than the Gilbert clan. Maybe some European slipped it to a Bennett ancestor on the boat to America, maybe she stole it from an abusive mistress, I cannot say. Its age does add flavor to the spells placed upon it. I can tell—"

Jeremy received a sharp poke in the shoulder.

"Boy, a root and a flower are not the same. Set it aside," Alma commanded.

"As I was saying, when Bonnie Bennett altered your ring, it was already a weird little bauble. It had a long history with blood and death, much more than it should have. You must remember: our business is to harness nature for our purpose. We warp it to suit our needs. Heavy use of a thing against nature will warp it from its original intention."

Alma paused. "To come to Bonnie Bennett. At the root it is a protection spell. However, it is a protection spell against death."

"Isn't that what it was originally?" Jeremy interrupted.

"No. That spell is cast while the person still lives. This spell is cast when the person is dying."

Jeremy stilled. "Am I dead then?"

"Is a vampire dead?"

"Technically, yes."

"Then technically, you are dead. But you ask too many questions. Hush and let me finish," she said. Her voice was soft, almost sympathetic, and he glanced at her. She looked out the windows of the store. There were sugar crystals on her wrinkled lip.

"A spell is like a recipe. Good witches can follow the directions and accurately reproduce a result. The best can add or subtract and produce something better or something minimal. The most dangerous can create something entirely different out of the same ingredients. I will say Bonnie Bennett is a good witch, for what she did, but she is more dangerous for what she can do."

Jeremy stood up, wiped his hands on the back of his jeans, and turned to Alma.

"What do you know?"

Jeremy dropped his eyes to the silver glint on his hand. "She had to connect me to a vampire, Damon Salvatore. She had cast a spell before, which linked me to the ring even though I didn't wear it, but it was broken. I was holding the ring when I was stabbed, but it wasn't enough."

Alma peered at him. "A witch does not rely on a vampire as a tether unless she is desperate."

The muscle in Jeremy's cheek jumped. Alma's smile revealed straight slivers of pearl white. It was so simple. No wonder the tea burned with such vehemence.

"You are concerned, about your future. You think the spell has mutated over time and will continue to do so. You think because you have this scar," she touched the flesh near his eyebrow, "you are no longer human."

She lowered her hand. "It has taken the spell quite some time to settle. So naturally, you will start to feel different. This should not worry you. The woman who loves you has given you a gift many would kill for—she has given you the means to live a full life, a long life, a life with many paths."

His dark eyes burrowed into her face. He was looking for any slight prevarication, any euphemism that might come back to eviscerate him later. He looked haunted with every use of the word 'love'. Alma decided to finish with the nice words and tell him the darker side to this gift.

"If you remove this ring, you will die. It bears the majority of the power, so it will require most of your diligence. If the vampire you are tethered to dies, you will," Alma pursed her lips, "you will turn."

Jeremy frowned. "They neglected to tell me this."

"I would neglect to tell you as well. It is an unfortunate possibility."

He scrubbed the back of his head. "Maybe there's another option."

Alma tucked a piece of candied ginger in her cheek. "You want to reverse it."

"I want to lessen it."

Alma shook her head. "I cannot do this."

She walked to the counter and picked up a stack of labels.

"I saw you rip a man's heart out with a twitch of your finger. You can't do it because you won't."

Alma handed him the labels and a pen. "I cannot do this because it is not my spell. I am from an older time, young man. I respect the spell of good witches, especially when it comes to family."

Jeremy flapped the labels against his leg. There was no one else, no one else in the entire world. He was exaggerating. There might have been, but he wasn't willing to fly, bus, hike, or snorkel all the way to deep recesses of some land for an Alma-esque excuse. Hell, they would probably be a Bennett four times removed.

"You're sending me on an impossible mission."

Alma lifted a shoulder. "It is not so impossible if she loves you."

Jeremy dropped to his haunches and ripped a label off a jar of ginger root. He listened to Alma shuffle to the back, humming the same tune from earlier. The sun was warm on the back of his neck. He reached for a jar of dried lavender.

It was a Thursday. He had come over the night before and had fallen asleep in her bed watching X-Files. When he woke, he noticed two things: the white clarity of the sun on his face and the smell of the bed sheets. It was lavender. He lay on his back and listened to Bonnie step lightly around the room, felt the heat of the late morning sun, smelled the lavender as it grew stronger in tandem with the sun's power.

Jeremy removed the lid and inhaled. Bonnie's hip pressed against his side as she sat next to him on the bed. He slatted open his eyes and saw her closed smile. He surged up and rolled her under him, hearing her breath catch then the outright laughter in his ear, ringing in his head. He pressed his nose into the crook of her neck. Her skin was cool and infused with that lavender scent.

He twisted on the lid and made a fresh label.

* * *

The phone rang. Bonnie picked up on the first ring.

"I am going to kill this thing," Bonnie answered.

Elena laughed. "Another year and you still haven't learned your lesson?"

"She spelled Excel, that's what she's done."

"Or you're just stubborn and refuse to use the ledger because you—"

"I look like a crone lugging that book around," they said together. Bonnie twisted her lips to keep from laughing.

"Well, I give up. It's official. I am computer illiterate."

"Finally," Elena exclaimed. "Now can we get some lunch?"

Lunch was a special occasion they managed to pull off every week. They went to their favorite restaurant, a trussed up diner serving trussed up comfort food, ordered enough food for breakfast the next day and enjoyed an average of two hours of pure, unadulterated talk.

"You know what Stefan said to me this morning? He said it amazed him you and I still find things to talk about after knowing each other for so long," Elena said after they ordered drinks.

"He should be grateful. I'm preparing you for eternity with the same person," Bonnie said. Elena rolled her eyes and picked up the menu.

"So," she began, "how have you been?"

They shared a glance over their menus.

"Luka called last night."

"What did he want?"

"What doesn't he want?"

Elena closed the menu. "I'll give him points for perseverance."

"You would," Bonnie said.

Elena tried hard not to pick up the worn thread of this particular conversation. Bonnie was grateful for the waiter's timing. She barely sipped the mimosa when Elena said, "I don't know what you're waiting for."

"So what'll it be ladies?"

"I'll have the chicken and waffles and she'll have the Shepard's pie and can I get two sides of mac n' cheese?" Elena answered. She winked at her scowling friend.

"Still trying to figure out Dana's secret?" the waiter asked as he collected their menus.

"I will not be deterred, Corey," Elena said.

As soon as he left the table, Bonnie leaned forward. "When are you going to drop this?"

"The moment you admit it."

"Elena, you need to find a hobby other than hyper analyzing my life."

Elena sat back with a sigh. This wasn't what she wanted to do—she was all prepared to have a typical, unassuming lunch with Bonnie—but the moment she saw Bonnie's relieved smile as Elena pulled up to the curb, she knew what was dogging her friend.

"I want to see you happy, Bonnie."

Bonnie reached for Elena's hand. She looked her in the eyes. "I am happy, Elena."

* * *

Adrien never fought before. He had seen fights in movies, heard his father talk about those "good old days", played Ultimate Mortal Kombat V on the Kinect, but he had never actually been in a fight. So it came as a surprise when he found himself on his back in the snow near the flagpole, a kid named Myles Ingram beating his face.

Each blow stung. His eyes watered. Not out of fear or pain, but angry tears. He couldn't get up, couldn't knock this stupid idiot off him and pummel him like he wanted to. The boots of friends, enemies, and strangers ringed his vision. No one made a move to stop Myles. He thought of yelling but then Myles popped him in the lip. He tasted blood.

"Hey!"

The beating halted. Adrien opened one eye and saw multicolored, paint splattered rain boots.

"Get off him, Ingram."

It was her. Adrien closed his eye and prayed for Myles to continue.

"Or what?"

"Or I kick you in your fat head!"

There was laughter, mostly at her. Myles sniggered. "Whatever, weirdo." A cold hand slapped his cheek. "You hear that, Putzman? Your girlfriend is here to save you."

Laughter erupted then abruptly stopped at the same moment the crushing weight on his chest lifted. There was a thud and a yell. Someone grabbed Adrien and pulled him to his feet.

It was his best friend Jamie. His cheeks were splotchy and he panted, shoving back the skullcap to let straight blonde hair fall into his eyes.

"I came as fast as I could, but Lux beat me here," Jamie said. Adrien turned to see Lux standing over Myles Ingram.

"Go run home to your pathetic life, loser," Lux said as Myles scrambled to his feet. She kicked him in the ass and he fell, then hurried up. They watched him run down the street and disappear around the corner with some other kids.

Lux turned to the remaining kids. She waved a mittened hand. "Go away."

Jamie smiled. "She's badass."

Adrien poked at his lip. "Ouch."

Lux came over to them. She wrapped a bright turquoise scarf around her neck and straightened the pale pink beanie she always wore. Adrien glanced at her then away. It was hard looking at her sometimes. He disliked her, he knew that, but sometimes he thought of willingly playing video games with her, or a passing game of soccer, or talking to her like he would a friend who isn't friend, who is…special.

Adrien saw that uniqueness in her then, saw it in her smile and in the glitter of her green eyes.

"He's gone," she announced.

"Yeah, we saw him running away. He's going to be super mad on Monday," Jamie said. Lux shrugged. Adrien knew what that meant.

"I can fight him on Monday."

A look passed between Jamie and Lux. A strange burning flooded his face. Jamie patted his shoulder. "Beating all the stories in Kombat does not make you a ninja. It doesn't make me one and I've beaten you in freeplay every time."

Why was Jamie bragging in front of Lux? She didn't care about that boyfriend/girlfriend stuff or else she wouldn't dress the way she did or come to the rescue of boys.

Jamie talked until his Dad pulled up. The silence was sudden. Adrien became uncomfortable with a quiet Lux. Quiet Lux stared at him and didn't make one obnoxious comment about him being too weak. He wasn't going to be the first one to speak.

Lux must have known this because she asked, "Why did you let Myles Ingram beat you up?"

She was angry with him.

"I…I didn't let him—"

"Uh, he was sitting on your chest, pounding on your face."

Adrien touched his cheek. It was tender. "Maybe I let him do it."

"Why?"

Adrien shrugged. Lux knew what that meant. She blew out air in a sharp puff. "My Mom told me I have to always try to do right."

"Even though no one asks you to?"

Lux was silent for a while. She didn't understand why Adrien was upset. She didn't even understand why he let someone treat him like a wimp. It was probably some secret boy thing.

"Well, I'm not saying sorry for kicking Myles in the face."

They looked at each other. Adrien grinned despite how much it hurt. Lux grinned, then scowled. "Your Mom is totally going to flip out."

"I know. Well, if your Mom comes first, maybe she can—"

Lux raised an eyebrow. Adrien squinted at the street.

* * *

There was a process to returning. The first order of business was to retrieve the most valuable item left behind, if such a thing existed. In Jeremy's case, it was his car. He flew into Norfolk International from Fairfax, and from there he spent an exorbitant amount on taxi fare to Mystic Falls.

He avoided town and directed the cab to the Salvatore Manor. The cab let him out near the garage. He jiggled the weekend bag and inhaled. Someone was home—there was a sleek black Audi parked near the front.

Jeremy knocked on the side door and waited. He heard Elena sprinting down the steps, then saw her head bouncing as she strode towards the door. There would be no welcoming hug like the last time—Elena's brown eyes were hard as they stared at him through the glass.

She opened the door. She was dressed for business.

"When did you get in?"

"Thirty minutes ago. I took a cab here."

Elena folded her arms. She glanced at the gold watch on her wrist. "I have a meeting in twenty-minutes with Senator Michaels," she turned away into the house, "how long are you staying?"

Jeremy followed her inside and shut the door. "I don't have any definite plans."

She didn't respond. She went into the downstairs study and searched the desk, lifting papers and pulling out drawers.

"Ah," Elena said. There was a jangle of keys. She straightened to toss them to him. "Stefan gave it a tune-up, changed the oil, all that. It's in the garage. Your clothes are at Jenna's. I assume you didn't call her, tell her you were coming?"

Jeremy stared down at the keys. Elena shut the drawer with a sharp click.

He looked at her. She stared at him, her coolness diminishing with every second they stood in silence.

"I am allowed to be angry with you Jeremy. Running away the first time was understandable, staying away was understandable, but this time it is downright inexcusable. We went after you because we thought—"

Elena shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I love you, you're my brother, but I hate how selfish you are. Just know that."

Jeremy remained silent. He had prepared to some degree for his sister's anger, but what he heard more was disappointment. He started when she kissed his cheek and gave him a brief hug.

"Don't ask too much," Elena said. She was gone before Jeremy could question what that meant.

* * *

Bonnie checked the time. Shit. By the time she closed the shop school would have been out for fifteen minutes. Bonnie picked up the phone to call Elena but remembered the interview with Senator Michaels. Stefan was out of town as well. She called Jenna's phone but got voicemail. It looked like she would have to break some speeding laws.

Bonnie quickly finished the ledger, shut down the back office, and was gathering the spices she pulled out for dinner when the front doorbells tinkled. She quickly looked up, about to dismiss the customer, and stopped short.

"Hey Bo."

"Luka?"

Luka looked around the shop. Bonnie hadn't seen him in almost a year. As Luka grew older, he became a sharper dresser. It always bothered her to admit he looked good, especially now, with the collar of his coat turned up, the black wool bringing out the richness of his skin. He went to a display of gardening books. "I like this store better than the one in Santa Monica. No seashells."

Bonnie stared at him. "What are you doing here?"

Luka straightened. He cast a warm gaze in her direction. "I thought I'd visit, see Lux."

"Lux is at school. Was at school, she's waiting at parent pickup," Bonnie said. She put on her coat and gloves. "If you wanted to see her, you know what time she gets out. She would have loved it if you stuck to your initial reason for being here."

Bonnie heard Luka inhale sharply. She could hear the argument before it began. Maybe he was right, maybe Bonnie was the instigator, but dammit, she didn't want to do this wooing crap they do every year.

"Okay, you're right. I didn't come for just Lux," Luka stepped forward, "I came to see if you would like to go out for dinner later."

Bonnie guffawed. "You are kidding. You came all the way from Boston to ask me to dinner?" She wrapped a scarf around her neck. "You could have saved yourself the trip. No."

"Why not?"

"Because we aren't married anymore. We aren't anything except the parents to a little girl who I have to pick up from school." Bonnie moved to leave but Luka blocked her exit. "Excuse me."

Luka grasped her arms. A small electric current sparked along her veins. She looked up at him. "What do you want, Luka? What more could you possibly want?"

"I want you to listen to me. Just this once, just…listen. Five minutes. Can you do that? Please?"

Luka had this way, this very unnatural way, of creating guilt in Bonnie when she had no reason to be guilty. She was a good wife. She shared her power with him, she gave, she cooked when she could, cleaned when she could, supported him, cared for him, gave him a child, built a good life with him and yet it wasn't enough. Luka kept after her for more, always silently, always with the same quiet intensity. Bonnie didn't know what else he wanted from her. It was something he couldn't formulate into words, even throughout the divorce, he never told her. And she felt it was something she should know, some implicit need or want she should know.

Bonnie dropped her head. She owed to herself to finally listen to him get this out, to actually _say_ it, whatever it was.

"Fine. And because I know you, I'll give you fifteen. Let me make a call."

Luka let her go and Bonnie took out her cell and scrolled through names until she reached his.

"Hello stranger," Damon answered.

"I need you to pick up Lux from school."

"It must be official then."

Bonnie frowned. "What?"

"Hell has indeed frozen over, pigs are flapping their little wings over the frozen mass as we speak."

"Look Damon," she moved further into the store, away from Luka, "are you picking up my daughter or not?"

"I will suffer the inconvenience, only because Lux happens to be a tolerable kid. What do I do with her?"

Bonnie rubbed her temple. "Take her to Jenna's. Tell her to call me when she gets there."

There was a beat of silence. "Damon?"

"Are you okay Bennett?" It was this relatively new thing, caring outright about people other than Elena and Stefan.

Bonnie glanced to the ceiling. "I'm…I'll be fine. Thank you and I owe you one."

"You're welcome and you know I'll collect," Damon said. He hung up before Bonnie could check his lascivious tone.

Bonnie sighed and turned back to Luka. He had removed his coat and had his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

"Was that Damon?"

Bonnie waved the cell. "Long story short: we're friends and I trust him. Now talk to me." She took off her gloves and indicated he should follow her to the office.

* * *

Lux watched intently as a glossy blue 1977 Impala slowly traversed up the parent pickup ramp. It came to a stop a few yards from the flagpole. She nudged Adrien and pointed to the car.

"I've seen that car before. At Auntie Lena's."

A man stepped out. His black hair blew in the breeze. He turned and Lux stood up, waving.

"Damon!"

Adrien allowed himself to be pulled to his feet by Lux as Damon started towards them. A teacher, Ms. Portas, cut him off.

"Can I help you?"

Damon smiled. "I was sent by Lux's mother to pick her up."

The woman looked at her clipboard. Damon leaned over to read it. "Looks like I'm not on the list," he said.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm going to have to call Mrs. Martin for permission to release Lux to you."

Damon cocked his head. "Miss…"

"Portas," the woman replied. Damon laid a gentle hand on her arm and they stepped a little off to the side.

Adrien and Lux looked at each other. "Five bucks he compels her," Adrien said. Lux shook her head. "That's a bad bet."

"Nah uh."

"Yes huh."

"Lux, Adrien, your ride is here," Ms. Portas called to them. Damon stood by the passenger side of the car. They grabbed their book bags, said goodbye to Ms. Portas, and headed over to the car.

"You compelled her, didn't you?" Adrien asked as Damon opened the side door.

"Maybe. Maybe I was just very persuasive," Damon responded.

"I told him it was a bad bet," Lux said.

Damon pulled the cap down over her bright eyes. "Aren't you clever? Get in spaniels."

They scrambled into the backseat. Damon jogged around to the driver side. He played to adjust the rearview while really checking if they were buckled in. The strangeness of the situation was not lost on him, or on them. They grinned at him, clearly loving it. Damon rolled his eyes and started the car.

"Any of you kids have a cell phone?" Adrien nodded. "Call your Mom, let her know I'm bringing you home, with a guest."

"Where's my mom?" Lux asked.

"She got held up at work. She wants you to call her when you're with the Saltzmans."

"Is she okay?" Adrien asked.

"Why would you ask that?" Damon questioned, glancing at the boy. Adrien averted his eyes to the passing scenery.

"Because Lux's mom doesn't really like you."

Damon blinked. "Well. You're becoming more like your dad every day. Here's a tip—take it easy with the bluntness."

"It's true Damon. Mommy doesn't like you very much," Lux said. Damon inclined his head to agree. "But," Lux sat back, "she trusts you. You don't have to like someone to trust them, right?"

Damon looked at her. It was screwy logic, but they lived in a screwy world. Instead he said, "No one likes a know-it-all." She stuck her tongue out at him. He thumbed his nose at her and Lux laughed.

"So, what are they teaching you kids this decade?"

* * *

Jeremy drove to the center of town. Nothing ever changed in Mystic Falls. If it did, it did so by degrees and with the utmost reluctance. He felt like the town, reluctantly changing. Change wasn't necessarily bad. It was the not knowing the reception to change, the end result of change that gave it a negative connotation. It had taken him ten years to come to one simple conclusion regarding his relationship with change—they were inescapably linked through negative connotations.

So what was Jeremy doing here exactly?

The more Jeremy saw of Mystic, the less clear his purpose for returning. He was driven here to return to normal, but when had normal ever been part of his life? What other town had a centuries old cabal against the supernatural? And his ancestry ran parallel to that purpose. In the present, the supernatural was so intertwined with his life that to extricate himself would mean death.

He passed the Grille, almost stopping to eat but food wasn't what he wanted. Food wasn't going to fill the vacancy that had been driving him for years.

The Gilbert-Saltzman house still had Christmas lights woven in the trees and lining the roof. Jeremy parked behind a familiar blue Impala. He walked briskly up the path to the porch, opened the screen door and touched the doorbell but didn't push. Voices and laughter came through the door. He heard Damon talking to Jenna over the tiny, shrill laughs of Keira.

He stepped back and turned to stare out at the street. He felt cold all of a sudden, cold and hungry and bitterly alone. He had to go somewhere, but his feet led him to the porch swing and there he sank, listening to the chains and the wood creak as it bore his weight.

Thoughts swirled before him like snow. Each one fell and became indistinct from the rest. Together they took on a form, a face, a feeling. Home.

"The door is over there."

Jeremy slid his eyes over to Damon. He leaned against the railing, hands deep in his leather jacket.

"Thanks. I had a little trouble remembering."

"No problem."

Damon blew out a breath. "So, this is a little awkward."

Jeremy frowned.

"You know, the whole murky connection thing. I can get certain vibes from you, a little ping in my head that alerts me of your general well-being or, in this case, your melancholy."

Jeremy blinked. "You can feel me?"

"When you put it that way it sounds like a fucking love song," Damon muttered.

"It had to be you," Jeremy sang. He grinned and Damon rolled his eyes.

"The ribbing period ended about nine years ago."

"Yeah, but I didn't get to join in."

"No," Damon turned his critical eyes on him, "you didn't."

Jeremy fought the urge to snap at him. Since when did Damon get to chasten him?

"How long are you going to sit out here, being pathetic?"

Jeremy shrugged. "Maybe another thirty minutes. Why? Am I holding you up from leaving?"

Damon tensed his jaw. The blue eyes turned a shade darker. He put his back to Jeremy. Snow drifted on to the porch, dusting the both of them with white specks.

"Years ago I had this idea. It involved Bonnie and I and as long as we could stand each other."

Jeremy rubbed his face. "Shit."

"It was a good idea too. Plausible. Even likely. But you clung all over her like damp, and she, well," Damon cleared his throat, "she isn't as good at pretending as I would like her to be."

Jeremy sat in shocked silence. He saw himself as two people, the one then and the one now. Then would have exploded quietly and walked away before the fallout could effect him. Now…Jeremy inhaled cold air. _She isn't as good at pretending as I would like her to be._

Jeremy stood and Damon turned. They looked at each other, waiting. It could go anyway between them. It could go sour or it could go nowhere.

"I owe you a drink," Jeremy said.

Damon blinked. "Hard liquor?"

Jeremy nodded and left the porch. Damon waited a moment, fumbling for the special switch he created for Bonnie and the moment he had to let it go. A vast and deep part of him went dark. It was only then did he follow Jeremy for that drink.


	9. Circles and Lines, Part II

**A/N**: This is the end, finally. Thank you guys for reading. Enjoy.

* * *

Bonnie swung open the door to the house, stepping aside to let Lux run in. "Hey, this is the third and last message I'm leaving. I owe you dinner. Call me back," Bonnie said. She hung up with a worried sigh. She had grown too accustomed to Damon's prompt responses.

Music blasted from the kitchen. Bonnie tossed her bag and keys on a side table, toed off her pumps, and responded to the blare of horns and trumpets and clashing cymbals.

Lux already had out all the ingredients for lasagna. Bonnie walked in on her staring hard at a Pyrex dish on a shelf. Bonnie grinned and sent the dish floating down towards the girl. Lux squealed. "Mom! Come quick!"

"I'm here," Bonnie said. She took the dish from the air and started preparing dinner.

"Mo-om," Lux said, "I'm never gonna learn if you keep messing with me."

"Practice on objects we don't need," Bonnie kissed her cheek, "and I'm not messing with you, sweetness. I'm hungry."

Lux forgave her with a smile. Bonnie put a pot in her hand and directed her to heat up the meat sauce.

"How was school today?"

Lux lifted a shoulder as she stirred. "It was okay. We did math and then we learned about some animals, like the lion and the elephant and where you can see them if you don't want to see them at the Zoo but in their…natural habitat. In art I made a vase and Ms. Sayer talked about how she'll put it in an oven, I think it's called a kiln, and bake the clay and then we'll paint it and then bake it again and then I can bring it home and put some flowers in it."

Bonnie sprinkled some fresh herbs into the meat sauce. She returned to the chopping board and quickly diced an onion and a bulb of garlic.

"How was the fight after school?"

Lux stopped stirring and looked to her mother. She had her back to her, busy making the ricotta cheese filling. How did she find out? Lux wondered. When her mother picked her up from Adrien's house, she didn't see Adrien and she and Aunt Jenna talked at the same time, thanking and welcoming and making plans. Lux thought of how Auntie El described damage control and tried it out.

"Well, it wasn't really a fight."

"No?" Bonnie looked at her with raised eyebrows. Lux sensed the admonition before it began to form.

"Adrien didn't do anything. He just…well, he just let himself get hit. Myles wouldn't stop even though he already won."

"But he didn't have to stop because you stopped him."

"I had to. No one else wanted to help him."

"There are other ways to help—"

"—but the teachers weren't there—"

"—ways that do not involve shoving people to the ground and kicking them in the butt, Lux."

Lux fell silent. Damage control was a bust. Bonnie came over and added the onions and half the garlic to the meat sauce. Lux stirred them in, watching the cubes of white and cream disappear into the red. The spoon lifted from her grasp and went up to her mouth to taste. Lux slurped the spoonful.

"It's okay. Needs some more nutmeg," she said.

Bonnie grinned at their usual game. "I think it needs anchovies."

Lux put her arm around her mother's waist and put her head into her mother's side. "I had to do it Mom. No one else wanted to help him."

Bonnie dropped a kiss on the top of Lux's head. "Let's put this thing together so we can go wash up and do some reading before we eat."

Lux observed her mother build the lasagna. She admired how quickly the Pyrex dish went from green glass to red and white. Bonnie handed her a bowl of grated Mozzarella and Lux made a checkered pattern with the cheese. Together they slid it in the oven. Bonnie leaned against the door with a dramatic sigh.

"I think that is the biggest lasagna we ever made."

"We made a bigger one for Uncle Damon."

Bonnie made a face. "Oh, yeah. He inhaled that thing and turned into a beached whale. We had to roll him out the door afterwards."

"He made whale sounds too!" Lux giggled.

Bonnie imitated a whale, much to Lux's delight. "Okay, dear heart. Homework, then dinner, then we clean up, then dessert and a movie. Now get," Bonnie said. She clapped Lux on the behind and the girl took off.

"We're watching _Enchanted_!" Lux yelled.

"If you can find it!"

Bonnie smiled at the high-pitched whine. She looked about the kitchen. Mess everywhere. A small amount of magic and she could go upstairs and take a bubble bath. But then thinking would happen and she didn't want to think. Bonnie started cleaning. The nervous energy that plagued her all day found an outlet in the routine of putting away and wiping down and washing up. Her thoughts poured into the soapy water as she rinsed containers and pans. The warm water on her hands was a balm. The day unfurled like a sheet and she read each event with detached interest.

She usually received a portent of some significance when life bubbled over. A strange lightning storm, the candles in the house turned to wax, the herbs on the windowsill grew and brighten overnight. Nothing today. Bonnie frowned. Being caught unawares reminded her of the dark days when she just emerged into her powers and the world went to hell for vacation.

Maybe there were signs but her mind…Bonnie turned off the faucet. The night descended quickly. The sky was a solid black and the snow-covered ground rose against it in stark contrast. The moon had yet to cast light. She wondered where he slept tonight, if he slept. She wondered where he traveled, and how, and what he did when he arrived at each town and city. She wondered if he kept warm, if he even felt the cold. _Jeremy. Jeremy. Jeremy._

"Mom, the phone!'

Lux ran into the kitchen and handed her the house phone.

"Where have you been?" Bonnie asked.

"I won't be able to make it to dinner," Damon said.

"What dinner?"

"The dinner Lux invited me to a minute ago."

"Oh," Bonnie swatted Lux with a dishtowel, "I think she wants an encore of last month."

"Yeah, she's a cute kid, much more accommodating than her mother."

Bonnie caught the tightness in his voice. She directed Lux out the kitchen. Loud chatter and louder music filtered into her ear. "Where are you?"

"I'm in Montreal. I had the sudden urge to see what this English-French-Canadian-Japanese fusion thing is all about."

Bonnie stared out the kitchen window. Snow began to fall. Damon occasionally had his mental health weekends, but he always came back. The thought that he might leave one day for good never crossed her mind. But he was gone. She recognized the distance in his voice.

"Montreal."

"The bartender at The Grille knew my name and drink. It was a sign."

"Elena and Stefan know?"

"Alaric is the only one I bothered bidding farewell. Check on him. It'll be rough for him, surrounded by the dour."

Bonnie cleared her throat of words she had no business saying. They carried convoluted connotations and could be easily misconstrued as intimate. The silence turned awkward. Instinct told her once he hung up, the connection between them would dampen. He would turn into some occasional stranger, and whatever made them workable would die.

"Tell the kid to keep kicking asses. I'll—"

"Wait," Bonnie said, "you always talk about what I owe you. What about what you owe me?"

The din quieted. Damon must've walked outside. She heard the rush of air and traffic. "I will actually vervain myself if you start professing."

"We're friends, aren't we? Improbable, but we are. And you don't just," Bonnie let her frustration go, "fucking leave for another country without saying why. I deserve why."

"You know why."

Bonnie pictured him standing on the sidewalk, squinting up and down the street, lips pressed together. He always looked like that last summer night in her mind. She had wanted to lie that night. He knew too, but he didn't care. And then he did. That was the problem.

"If it was different, you know where I'd be."

"I know. But I stayed once and it took a thousand bottles of Black Label to numb me. I don't…." the sentence trailed off. Bonnie understood. A vacuum existed between the third and fourth rib. Nothing could fill it except the actualization of the need. Nothing could ease it save for a requited touch. She understood.

The night blurred. Light bled into the darkness. Bonnie closed her eyes and breathed. "Lie to me and say you'll keep in touch."

"I won't."

They breathed quietly. Then the dial tone buzzed in her ear. Bonnie set the phone on the counter. She shook herself and checked the lasagna. Another forty-five minutes. She returned to the kitchen window and pulled the pins out her hair. It tumbled down her shoulders. Her image and the world outside occupied the frame. The effect was disconcerting. She peered at her face.

Time had not been unfair to her. The thought of mortality made her blink and the black sky and white snow filled her cheeks and forehead. Eternity was an abstraction, unlike the forever for Elena and Stefan and Damon and Caroline. She shuffled along, always aware of how her outward youth belied her internal age. Eternity existed in generational traits and the grimoires lining the wall of her study. But, for a moment, eternity spanned ten years. Bonnie searched her eyes. Even to her they remained unfathomable. She lived too many lifetimes, saw too many things, desired to the extent of creation, both magically and biologically. She had the opportunity to grasp love and three times her strength failed.

On a whim Bonnie reached out into the void. She expected to freefall into an inky absence but a force pushed against her, a force redolent of Jeremy. Bonnie ran warm water over her hands to draw a steady stream of energy into ascertaining the source. The warmth effloresced into a magnificent flush of pure heat that sank into her bones.

"Mom I don't get this problem!"

Bonnie slowly switched off the faucet. She gazed out, feeling him draw nearer and nearer.

"I'm coming."

* * *

Bonnie followed the revolution of Mars around the sun five times before Lux fell asleep. The movable diorama of the solar system provided the perfect soporific for Lux's active mind. The florescent red glare of Mars passed into the soft bluish-green tones of Earth. Distant stars scintillated. The constellations shone faintly. Bonnie rubbed the small back beside her. Lux had tucked into her side and burrowed her head into Bonnie's armpit. Her soft breath came out in little tufts like when she was a baby.

The Earth spun. Her mind went to Luka and his purpose for coming to visit her. He wanted to make it work, he wanted to try. And as she listened to him practically carve his heart out and place it on the oak counter of the store, she realized why she could never accept him. The first feeling she felt for him, above all others, was obligation. Obligation to try, obligation to love, obligation to happiness. She couldn't go back to that trap, as safe as it was. The blue green light of Earth gave way to the silver light of the Moon.

Luka had loved crafting the diorama. She didn't think a child should be exposed to witchcraft so early, but when Luka turned out all the lights and laid her gently on her back, the beauty of it erased any objections.

"It'll last forever," he had whispered. His hand caressed hers in the pale light of Venus. "Just like us."

Eight years later, the planets spun. If only life spun on as assuredly.

Bonnie eased off the bed and tucked the blankets around her daughter. She closed the painted purple door just a fraction and padded down to her room. The house was quiet. She sat on the bed and ran her hands over her face. Her muscles trembled. Damon. Luka. _Jeremy_.

The shower offered no solace. Neither did painting her nails or reading the new grimoire acquisition. She switched off the lamp and lay in bed. Stillness crept over her but she stayed awake. There were things she had to confront and dismantle and eventually forget, but what they _were_ escaped her. The thought worried her into a troubled sleep.

A slight inward tug awakened her. Wind whistled through the house. A snowstorm had struck. It cut the black world into white ribbons. Bonnie watched the snow coat the lawn completely, then turned on the television. Heavy snow drifts until early morning. Possible snow day. She snorted. Maybe for the other schools, but only an act of God could close Mystic Elementary for a day.

Bonnie groaned. They would be late tomorrow due to tunneling out and salting the lane. And putting chains on the tires. And hacking the ice off the windshield. Lux had a presentation she had worked on for weeks and Bonnie had a supply meeting she set up months ago. They couldn't be late tomorrow. She threw off the covers, grabbed a heavy coat and boots, and went down to the basement. She gathered all the necessary supplies and went to the wide cellar doors. The steel handles stung with cold. She inhaled, mumbled a few sentences, and pushed open the doors.

A wall of snow surrounded Bonnie. She took the shovel, knocked it down, and climbed out to survey the damage. The trashcans were buried, the lane was covered, and snow powdered the front porch all the way to the door. Bonnie looked to the sky. It was clear and the moon shone luminous.

Bonnie applied the snow chains first. The effort limbered her up for shoveling and salting the lane. She started from the bottom up. The progress was slow. Her mind fixated on the rhythmic sound of the shovel scraping the gravel and the snow plopping as it fell in heaps on either side of the lane. She bent and lifted. Her muscles stretched and flexed, stretched and flexed. By the time she reached the middle, heat rose up her neck and made the coat uncomfortable. She leaned on the shovel for a minute and watched the intermittent puffs of white air dissipate into nothing.

"Was that you?"

Bonnie whirled. Jeremy stood a yard away. The moonlight fell on him and transported her back to that crucial memory. A beard shadowed his face and a skullcap covered his head. He was leaner, not as muscled as in the past, or three months ago. He seemed different. She stepped towards him. His eyes moved with her and her stomach twisted with nerves and her spine lost some of its straightness. His eyes hadn't changed much.

"What are you doing here?" Bonnie asked.

"I came back. To see you." Jeremy glanced up to the sky. "You did this?"

"It'll be one hell of a storm come Wednesday."

Bonnie watched him approach and stop at arm's length. His proximity, so immediate, threw her headlong into a tumult of questions, emotions, actions. What to do first, what to do with his response, what to do with all this heat rising and her brain rising and her heart hammering and the blood rushing so loud in her ears she could taste it.

"I can come back tomorrow," Jeremy said. He looked unsure.

"No," Bonnie dropped the shovel, "No, you can, we can talk now, it's fine."

"It's late."

"I can bring up the sun," she said.

Jeremy watched her a moment, then reached for the can of salt and the shovel. She led him to the house and he set the items against the doorframe before stepping inside. He did a sweep of the foyer, dining room, and what he could see of the living room. Bonnie watched his face. If he felt any discomfort being in her house, he hid it. She unzipped her coat and threw it over the banister.

"Do you want anything?"

His gaze fell on Bonnie. "Coffee, tea, hot chocolate," she clarified.

"Coffee."

Bonnie went to the kitchen. The only coffee she had was the terrible blend they serve in diners. Caroline called it emergency, I-want-these-people-gone coffee.

"The only coffee I have is this sewer water blend," she called.

"That's fine."

Jeremy leaned against the kitchen island. He had taken off the jacket. The navy thermal shirt he wore clung to his body. Bonnie carefully opened the instant packet and poured it into the filter, assembled the coffeemaker, and switched it on. The water began to percolate.

She examined him openly, under the lights. He did the same. Brown eyes scanned from head to socked toe. When he caught her eyes again, she found it hard to keep still and not…touch him.

"What are you doing here?" Bonnie asked.

Jeremy moved from behind the counter. "I came to see you."

"I don't believe you."

He continued towards her. "Have I ever lied to you?"

"You're lying now," Bonnie said. "What are you doing _here_? Now?"

"I came back for the truth. So I can figure out what to do next."

The way he stood reminded Bonnie of the first time the feeling passed between them, when she realized how deep it traveled. A beeping noise signaled the coffee was done. She poured it in a mug and handed it to him. He set it back on the counter.

"What do you mean?" Bonnie asked. She glanced to the ring. "Has something happened? Something else?"

"I visited a witch. Alma Brooks. She told me about the spell."

Fear seized her. Bonnie knew then what he wanted.

"I can't do that, " Bonnie said.

"You can."

Bonnie searched his face. "How can you ask me?"

Jeremy lifted a hand and showed her the ring. It shone dully in the kitchen light. "It's changed me. And it'll keep on changing. The spell hasn't settled yet."

"But you won't die. And the effects…they're negligible at best, Jeremy," Bonnie said.

Jeremy slipped the ring from his finger. Bonnie started but the ring flew above her head into the sink and down the drain. She let out a strangled cry and went to the sink, ready to raise it from the pipe. Jeremy grabbed her before she could even concentrate.

"You need to put it back on! You need to, the spell, your life, it's connected to the ring, I have to get it, get off, get off me," Bonnie said. She struggled but Jeremy held her wrists too tight. She started to twist her entire body but he backed her up against the counter, using his weight to cancel out her movements.

"You talk about negligible effects. Is death negligible Bonnie? What about inheritable vampirism? Hm? What about those effects?

They both breathed hard, hearts beating so loud it shook both their bodies. Bonnie used the aneurysm trick but Jeremy only cringed. "I've been around a lot of uncooperative witches. Picked up a few things."

"I can't watch you die. Again."

Her hazel eyes glistened. She inhaled and looked at him, anger bunching up her features. "You have no idea what I sacrificed to bring you back. And now you're asking me to let you go? To step aside and do nothing? How can you ask me that?"

"When I died," Jeremy squeezed her wrists, "I died because I loved you. I did what had to be done because I loved you. I never wanted this, Bonnie. I never wanted you to sacrifice anything. I only wanted us, together, for as long as we could be."

Devastation ravaged her face. It tore at him, her eyes clawed at his brain and her slack mouth broke his heart. The fight left her body in one long exhalation.

"I would rather you have a forever without me than nothing at all, Jeremy." Bonnie closed her eyes.

"Look at me."

Bonnie opened her eyes and it all became confusing. She ripped apart his will with one pointed look. The years of emptiness and wandering, of craving so intensely he would lie immobile for hours in a daze of naked remembrances, swamped him. She flung him back to that terrible separation scene, to that last chasm of silence that engulfed them. He didn't understand then. He didn't know the full magnitude of a love that scared the shit out of you until he recognized it in her eyes, in her lips. Her words resound in his head. Weakness and strength.

"You weren't strong enough to cast the spell. That's what you meant. That's why Luka called. That's why…the need for strength."

Jeremy searched her face. "What was the deal?"

A spasm of pain rippled across her features. Jeremy watched her lips open and suck in air.

"A union between our families. I didn't care, at first," Bonnie shook her head, "but I had a chance at normal. The picket fence, manicured lawn life, complete with an adoring husband and power, stretching on for as long as I could fathom. Then I had Lux and everything…exploded. The normal life. What I sacrificed to get it. The guilt of it," tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, "the hurt I caused."

His mouth went dry. He remembered the starkness in her eyes that night. For years he thought it blanket pity. It was fear. Fear of going beyond the limit and finding the world had collapsed and rebuilt itself as you fell.

They pressed together against the edge of the counter. Jeremy inhaled. That part of him, the altered, chimerical part of him registered her heart beating painfully. The adrenaline caused her muscles to bunch until it verged on agony. Fear of the unknown had scared her, defined her. Her entire length shook. It was so slight, but it shifted them from the past into the present. And what do now, when he didn't want forever and wanted her, and she couldn't have forever and wanted him.

Bonnie angled her face up. Their lips almost brushed. "Do you understand why?" she whispered. She peered at him that keen green look that fanned the elemental attraction between them and made it impossible to persist in her presence and not—

They reached for each other at the same second, hands grabbing as their lips crashed together. He half expected sparks, like stone striking stone, but thought vanished as her tongue slid along his and her short nails stroked through his hair and scraped his scalp. It was a headlong rush for more. He ached for more. Every subsequent touch yielded more pressure instead of relief. He hefted her up, hands on her ass, their hips grinding as her hands pulled on his shirt.

Minds turned off, instinct drove them. Jeremy set Bonnie on the counter and helped remove his shirt. They broke only for a breath and dove in, drawing in lips and tongues. Her hands ran over his body, gliding over the muscle, so familiar despite the long absence. Bonnie broke away suddenly. Her fingers smooth over a scar with the same confusion seen on her face. Her puzzlement allowed for a moment of bearing.

They were in various stages of undress. Pants unbuttoned, their shirts and his belt on the wood floor. A lace bra strap draped one shoulder and he watched her duck to look at the scars dotting his chest. He slid a hand up the one leg encircling his waist to her back. Her flesh was rounder. Supple. Bonnie glanced at him. She took his chin and examined his jawline, then his cheekbones, then forehead. She examined his mouth, running a thumb over his lips. Her fingers stroked down his throat and over his shoulders, then down over his arms. He stretched them out with a grin. She lovingly patted him down to the waist.

"What are you doing?" Jeremy asked while Bonnie ran a hand over his skull. He wrapped a hand in her hair and pulled gently, exposing her neck.

"Making sure you're all here and accounted for. No missing pieces."

Jeremy kissed her slow, tasting the honey of her mouth, tasted until they panted and her hand curled around the band of his jeans. "I'm all here. A little battered, but here," he said between breaths.

Bonnie watched him a moment before taking his hand. She showed him the ring.

"Here's what's going to happen. You're going to put this on. Then we're going to finish this," she gestured between them, "upstairs. And when I wake up before you tomorrow, I'm hoping that you'll be here when I get back. From there, it depends."

Jeremy stared at her for a full minute. Those green eyes never fell away. He wanted to kiss her again, draw her down to the kitchen floor, strip them both, and feel again. But that didn't happen. Instead, Jeremy nodded down to the ring in her palm. A grin split her face as Bonnie worked the band down his ring finger.

Later, much later, as their bodies cooled and he wrapped himself around her, stroking her hair and skin, closing his eyes to the kisses she imprinted on his neck and collarbone, Jeremy saw the future. It branched out the dark line of his life into luminous pathways. Somewhere, far ahead but not so far that he couldn't imagine it, the pathways shrank back into that dark line. Its termination was indefinite.

Jeremy knew when it had to happen. Forever. Or not. Bonnie slipped her hand down his back, over his scars. Her leg tightened around his. Not tonight, though. Not tomorrow. For now, forever gave way to the present, to proximity, to home.


End file.
